


Superlatives

by KatMorningstar



Series: Superlatives [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Epistolary, F/M, Fluff, Matchmaker Octavia, Tumblr Prompt, at least in part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatMorningstar/pseuds/KatMorningstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time to vote for Dropperton-Shipley University's annual yearbook superlatives! Octavia gets the genius idea to nominate grad student Bellamy and senior Clarke for Cutest Couple, despite the fact that they unquestionably loathe each other. The rest of the group thinks this is the best idea ever, and they each vow to get their respective departments to vote. The only person not on board is Finn. Will he screw up the whole scheme? If they win, will this make Bellamy and Clarke see each other differently, or will it only make them hate each other more? Based on a random Tumblr prompt that was totally intended for someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operation Parent Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is based on a Tumblr prompt that some random sent to someone I follow, who gushed over it but didn't seem interested in writing it. WELL I WAS, so here it is. I wanted a lot of it to be in email/chat/text format and avoid a lot of prose, just to make it quicker to write and read, so let me know if that's something your love or if it's just not working for you.

From: tjaha@drop.ship.edu  
To:[listserv: undergraduate students, graduate students]  
April 25, 2014  
2:35 pm

Attention students:

The annual university superlatives will be open for voting next Monday, beginning at 12 am and ending at 12 am Tuesday. All undergraduate and graduate students are eligible to be nominated. The results will be announced Tuesday at 6 o’clock, following the official vote count (courtesy of the Beta Alpha Psi accounting honors society).

Superlatives are as follows:  
Most Likely to Succeed  
Most Involved  
Most School Spirit  
Most Handsome  
Most Beautiful  
Cutest Couple

Winners will be featured in this year’s edition of The Ark, as well as in the alumni newsletter. Good luck, and remember to vote.

Chancellor Thelonious Jaha

Sent from my iPad

 

 

Octavia Blake  
2:37 pm:  
Guys. Clarke and Bell for Cutest Couple. Best idea or best idea? 

Raven Reyes  
2:39 pm:  
...I honestly can’t decide which of them would hate it more.  
I love it. I’m in. And I can swing the Engineering department vote. 

Nathan Miller  
2:42 pm:  
Yes. 1000x yes. I'll push Criminal Justice in the right direction.

Jasper Jordan  
2:43 pm:  
i ship it so hard. you know im in. and we can count on the chemistry dept’s vote. you know none of them will get nominated for anything. 

Monty Green  
2:45 pm:  
Ditto. And ditto the Physics department, for the same reason. I’ll see if I can swing the Bio dept without her catching on. Half of them love her for tutoring them, so they’ll vote for her for anything. The other half hates her for screwing the curve, so they’ll want in on any potentially unpleasant prank.

Monty Green  
2:45 pm:  
But have you guys considered the possibility that this will actually make Mom and Dad hate each other more? And also us? Because that is a very real possibility.

Octavia Blake:  
2:47 pm:  
Nope. Bell can’t be mad at me for longer than 48 hours, and Clarke has to live with me, so. They’ll deal. And maybe it’ll make J’s sick shipper fantasies come true. I can get the Communications dept on board btw.

Jasper Jordan  
2:50 pm:  
dont mock my dreams. i just want us to finally have one set of parents that love each other between the nine of us. thats not sick. its cute. like the parent trap. 

Octavia Blake  
2:52 pm:  
That’s not funny.

Finn Collins  
2:55 pm:  
This whole thing isn’t funny. You know Clarke would hate it.

Octavia Blake  
2:56 pm:  
Yeah, that’s why you don’t like it. If you tell her, I will castrate you. 

\--Octavia Blake removed Finn Collins from the group.--

Raven Reyes  
3:00 pm:  
So Operation Parent Trap starts tomorrow? I’m gonna start looking for ways to get into the system and rig the vote.

Octavia Blake  
3:04 pm:  
Yep! Also you are a brilliant genius and the love of my life.

Lincoln  
3:07 pm:  
I resent that. (But I am definitely good with this plan. I’ll get as many grad students on board as I can. Most of them either love or hate your brother.)

Octavia Blake  
3:12 pm:  
Thank you. And you know how I feel about you. ;) 

Jasper Jordan  
3:15 pm:  
pls get a room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In our next installment, we see the current state of the Bellarke dynamic... It's bad, you guys. Real bad.


	2. Fucking Macrons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke hasn't had the best day, and it's all Bellamy's fault. So what happens when her least favorite TA shows up at her apartment to see his sister?

Octavia knew Clarke was home when she heard the slamming door, the clatter of keys being viciously hurled into the bowl, and the flump of a body throwing itself face-first onto the sofa. She considered getting up to check on her roommate, but something told her to just count to ten and wait. Somewhere between eight and nine seconds later, a muffled shout came from the living room. “How do you feel about being an only child?”

  
Coming out of her room to flop into an armchair, Octavia shrugged. “Being a little sister is a pretty solid part of my identity. What’d he do this time?”

  
Not lifting her face from the throw pillow it was buried in, Clarke threw out one arm emphatically. “Macrons! Can you believe that? Macrons.”

  
“Um...” the brunette hesitated. “That is Greek to me.”

“Latin,” Clarke corrected darkly. “Your horrible brother grades the quizzes, and he took off points because I didn’t use macrons. Literally none of my intro professors or my first intermediate professor made us use macrons. I hate him.”

  
Grinning, Octavia said, “I don’t see why you’re even still taking Latin. Blah blah medical terminology, but there’s no reason to take more than you have to. Especially knowing that Bellamy would probably be your TA at some point. Unless you just wanted some extra face time with my objectively hot brother...”

  
Clarke turned her head so that one eye emerged from the pillow and glared at her friend. “That is repulsive. I am repulsed. The only time I want to spend with your brother involves a baseball bat, a hacksaw, and an industrial grade tarp.”

  
Octavia opened her mouth to reply, something about “doth protest too much”, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

  
“Raven,” Clarke called, “I need you to kill a man for me. I feel like you could do that.”

  
“You’re particularly vicious today, Princess,” came an unnervingly deep voice from the kitchen. A familiar combination of tall, dark, and asshole leaned against the entrance to the living room and smirked. “Something wrong?”

  
Clarke was standing in a flash, growling, “You know exactly what’s wrong, Bellamy Blake. A letter grade down because of fucking macrons? Really?”

  
Bellamy just shrugged, smirk never fading. “Dr. Baker said we’d be using them at the beginning of the year. Not my fault you’re a below-average student. I’d offer to work with you, but...I don’t want to.”

  
Octavia just sat and watched, wishing for popcorn as Clarke stomped across the room until she was basically under Bellamy’s nose. “If you think for one second that I wouldn’t rather fail this entire course than ask you for help, you’re even more of a pompous dick than I thought.”

  
His smirk widened to a grin as he shifted even closer, somehow looking down his nose at her despite their meager five-inch height difference. “By all means. Fail. It would make make my year.”

  
Practically baring her teeth, Clarke body-checked him into the wall as hard as she could as she stormed into the kitchen. “Are you planning on being here long?” she demanded over her shoulder. He hand hovered over the handle to the liquor cabinet.

  
“Depends.” He turned to his sister for the first time since his unceremonious arrival. “Can I get my jacket back from the other night?”

  
Octavia chirped in the affirmative and disappeared into her room. Her room, Clarke knew, was a disaster area. Finding that jacket would take forever, and from the sound of it, Bellamy was already settling into the spot on the couch that she had just abandoned. Accordingly, she hefted the giant bottle of Kraken out of the cupboard and poured herself the strongest rum and Coke she could stomach on a Tuesday night.

  
Briefly, she turned the heavy bottle over in her hands, considering it, and wondered if hurling it at Bellamy’s head wouldn’t be more satisfying than a buzz. Probably, but she figured that between the mess and the waste of good booze, it wouldn’t be worth it. She settled on shutting herself into her room instead, leaving the bane of her existence to sit alone in silence. Given how much he loved the sound of his own voice, the lack of a sparring partner was probably the worst punishment she could manage.

 

 

Octavia Blake  
7:47 pm:  
So it’s only Tuesday, and Clarke and Bell have officially had their first throw-down of the week. It was over some stupid quiz in the class he TA’s for-- totally minor issue for anyone else, but they did that thing where they get in each other’s faces and start basically ramming their antlers together. Children, I tell you.

Jasper Jordan  
7:50 pm:  
i know its like just kiss already. end the sexual tension once and for all. we are dying.

Octavia Blake  
7:52 pm:  
I want to disagree with you, but at the same time...yeah. I feel like it couldn’t hurt, right?

Raven Reyes  
7:56 pm:  
But really, can you imagine the sex? I can say with total confidence that it would be 10/10 great. He and I were just drunk and not even really into each other that one time, and it was still a solid 7. Plus they could probably both stand to get laid.

Octavia Blake  
7:56 pm:  
NO STOP SHUT UP.  
I *can* imagine it, but I refuse to because that is fucked up and wrong.

Jasper Jordan  
7:59 pm:  
oh jesus christ. there would be casualties. furniture. walls. potentially lasting scars. i pray for this nightly.

Monty Green  
8:00 pm:  
You think he’s kidding. No, he is not.

Octavia Blake  
8:02 pm:  
BYE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a really quick update, mostly because I like to do the first few chapters really close together. Hopefully I can add new updates daily-- winter break gives me almost too much free time, so it shouldn't be a stretch. If you like the story, let me know in some way! I like to know when I'm doing something right. 
> 
> Also, feel free to follow me on tumblr, where I'm maryam0revna instead of KatMorningstar! 
> 
> In the next installment, the gang gets together for movie night! Can everyone keep Operation Parent Trap a secret? Can Monty help Jasper get a handle on his feels? Can Clarke and Bellamy share a sofa and a bowl of popcorn without bloodshed? Who can say...?


	3. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the gang's weekly movie night! Can matchmaker Octavia, shipper Jasper, buzzkill Finn, and warring Bellamy and Clarke keep it together for one evening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spacing is being stupid, and I have neither the time nor inclination to dick around with HTML, so.

Raven Reyes

4:17 pm:

Movie night is happening as scheduled. 7:00, movie starts at 7:30. Come early for good seats, BYOP.

 

Nathan Miller

4:22 pm:

What are we watching?

 

Octavia Blake

4:26 pm:

The Notebook.

 

Clarke Griffin

4:30 pm:

No.

 

Bellamy Blake

4:30 pm:

No.

 

Raven Reyes

4:35 pm:

Yeah, no. We’re watching Annabelle. so bring your scary movie A-game. No one is sleeping on our couch because they’re afraid to walk to their car in the dark.

 

Monty Green

4:37 pm:

We agreed never to speak of that.

 

Lincoln

4:42 pm:

My Tuesday capoeira class got moved to tonight, so I might be a little late. Then again, maybe none of my students will show, and I’ll be on time?

 

Octavia Blake

4:46 pm:

Nbd. I’ll save you a seat. :)

 

Jasper Jordan

4:50 pm:

nope. no seat saving. sorry linc. pls dont hurt me. i dont make the rules.

 

  


Clarke figured that most of the gang would turn out fairly early, so she went ahead and staked her claim on the middle seat of the couch at six forty-five. In any other situation, she might feel bad about taking advantage of the fact that she lived there. However, she knew from past experience that her friends were ruthless when it came to movie night seating, and when it came down to it, it was every man for himself. Miller would still swear to anyone that would listen that he had permanent bite marks from the one time he tried to steal Octavia’s chair.

 

Having dropped her blanket and phone on the center cushion-- the agreed-upon sign of a claimed spot-- she set about popping all of the popcorn in the apartment. Movie night policy was technically BYOP, but that was mostly for Finn and his horrible no-butter, no-salt popcorn that no one wanted to share. Everyone else got whatever random store-brand stuff Clarke, Raven, and Octavia had on hand. The first wave of guests showed up just as Clarke had started layering extra butter and salt into the first bowl. (She could practically hear her mother grumbling about fat and sodium, and she stuck her tongue out at no one in particular.)

 

_Knock knock knock._

 

Shit. Her hands were covered in butter. Clarke snagged a paper towel on the way to the door before pulling it open.

 

“Hey hey!” Jasper darted in with no preamble. “I smell popcorn!”

 

Clarke and Monty exchanged wry smiles. “Hey,” the other boy smiled, giving her a quick hug, careful to avoid her shiny hands. “Are we the first?”

 

“Yup,” she nodded, grateful that it hadn’t been Bellamy or Finn. She couldn’t decide which would have been more unpleasant. “Get in here, claim your spots, and I’ll start on your popcorn next.”

 

Inside, Jasper had already planted himself in the spot to the left of Clarke's; he patted the armchair directly beside it, and Monty tossed his things into the seat, shortly followed by his small body.

 

The microwave dinged, and a minute later, Clarke handed the boys a giant glass mixing bowl full of popcorn smothered in cinnamon and sugar. She popped a piece in her mouth before they could fall on it like ravenous wolves and grimaced. “I don’t see how you guys can eat a whole bowl of that. I could probably manage a third of it before I went into sugar shock.”

 

They made no reply except to giggle around mouthfuls of the sugary kernels. Eventually, Jasper said something that sounded vaguely like “the munchies”, and Clarke shook her head.

 

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, Jasper, Monty, Raven, Octavia, and Clarke had settled into their seats, cued up the movie, and eaten half of the popcorn. Jasper and Clarke took up two-thirds of the couch, while Octavia had half of the loveseat (the other half of which was unofficially reserved for Lincoln, despite the no-saving rule). Monty was draped across the chair, sluggish after all the sugar, and Raven was cross-legged in front of Octavia, who was currently putting the other girl’s hair up into a system of intricate braids.

 

“How do you know how to do this?” Raven asked, trying not to turn her head.

 

Octavia shrugged. “Lincoln’s sisters have natural hair, and they taught me some stuff over Christmas.”

 

Before Raven could reply, the door opened, ushering in the last wave of movie-goers. Bellamy and Miller had no doubt carpooled from their apartment across town, and it seemed that Finn had just had the misfortune to show up at the same time as the two boys who had never really cared for him.

 

“Mo. Vie. Night! Mo. Vie. Night!” Miller chanted by way of greeting as he snagged the last bowl of popcorn off the bar and plopped onto the pile of pillows that covered the middle of the living room floor.

 

“Alright,” Jasper cheered, equally enthusiastic. “You guys come sit, and we can get this show on the road! I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some haunted doll action.”

 

“One sec,” said Finn, pulling his packet of popcorn out of his jacket pocket and heading for the microwave. “Does anyone want anything before I sit down?”

 

Clarke and Raven grimaced at each other as Monty and Octavia called out requests for drinks. Finn’s unfailing politeness was one of the reasons they could never manage to oust him from the group. He might have been a shitty boyfriend to the both of them, but otherwise he was an annoyingly decent guy.

 

As Finn ducked into the kitchen, Bellamy was left standing, looking around for a place to sit. None of his options were particularly attractive: next to Octavia on the loveseat (which she would never allow), next to Clarke on the couch (which would almost certainly end in violence), or somewhere on the floor with Miller and Raven. As he took in the lay of the land, trying to determine what would suck the least, he caught Clarke unconsciously glancing between the kitchen, Raven, and the seat next to her with a look of supreme discomfort.

 

Repressing a sigh, he looked back toward the kitchen, where Finn’s disgusting popcorn was almost done. Before he could think better of it, Bellamy crossed the living room and took the seat on Clarke’s right. She twisted her head to look at him in bewildered disbelief. He said nothing, only pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped away at the screen, ostensibly ignoring her wordless inquiry.

 

A moment later, Finn sat down next to a disgruntled-looking Miller, and Clarke almost missed the buzz of her phone under the sound of Raven starting the movie.

 

Bellamy Blake

7:25 pm:

Say “thank you”, and try to sound like you mean it.

 

Clarke Griffin

7:26 pm:

Excuse me? Why on earth would I do that?

 

Bellamy Blake

7:27 pm:

I just saved you from two hours of your ex breathing creepily down your neck. Now, say it.

 

Clarke looked up from her phone, lips pursed, and gave Bellamy a sideways glance. After a long moment, she looked back down.

 

Clarke Griffin

7:28 pm:

...thank you. You may be a jerk, but at least you won’t do that awkward “resting your arm against the back of the sofa but really just hovering over my shoulders” thing.

 

Bellamy Blake

7:29 pm:

That is maybe the worst “thank you” I have ever heard.

 

Clarke Griffin

7:30 pm:

I can only do so much, Blake.

 

Octavia noticed Clarke and Bellamy’s faces illuminated by their phone screens across the dark living room. From the enraptured look on Jasper’s face, they were probably texting each other, already waging some silent war that was sure to become verbal-- loudly verbal-- before the end of the movie.

 

“Hey!” she shouted, making almost everyone in the room jump. (Miller clutched at his chest, then tried to disguise the convulsion as a cough. He fooled approximately no one.) “Everyone off your phones. You know the rules. Don’t make me reinstate the phone box.”

 

Monty jabbed a finger at the perpetrators. “Put ‘em away! I can’t do the phone box again. You know I get separation anxiety.”

 

At least Clarke had the grace to look guilty as she pocketed her phone. Bellamy just locked his screen and made no attempt to actually put his phone away. Octavia supposed that was good enough.

 

Twenty minutes into Annabelle, a terrified Jasper had slowly inched closer to Clarke until his head was almost resting on her shoulder. Laughing quietly, she patted his knee, pulled the fleece blanket off of her legs, and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze. To her satisfaction, he let out a deep breath, and his wide eyes returned to their normal size.

 

"Thanks, Mom." 

 

Roughly five minutes later, Clarke was regretting giving away her blanket. Her feet were positively frigid, and she didn’t want to risk losing her spot by getting up to get a pair of socks. She reached down for a handful of popcorn as consolation, only to discover a hand already in the bowl. Clarke resisted the instinct to withdraw hers in surprise, choosing instead to glare at Bellamy, who was currently munching on what appeared to be a massive amount of popcorn even as he was scooping up more.

 

Had it been anyone else, brushing hands while reaching for popcorn during a scary movie would have been cute, if a little cliche, and probably resulted in minor hand-holding. As it was, though, Clarke gave his hand a sharp smack and flicked it out of the bowl-- her bowl, thank you very much.

 

Bellamy just gave her an exasperated look as he swallowed his popcorn and snagged another handful.

 

Bellamy Blake

7:50 pm:

Don’t be a popcorn hog.

 

Clarke Griffin

7:51 pm:

Get your own. And get off the phone before your sister sees you.

 

Clarke quickly tucked her phone between the couch cushions, but it didn’t stay there long. Barely ten minutes had passed before it let out a soft buzz.

 

Bellamy Blake

8:00 pm:

What the hell are you doing?

 

Clarke Griffin

8:01 pm:

Attempting to watch this movie, if you don’t mind.

 

Bellamy Blake

8:03 pm:

With your feet, genius. What are you doing with your feet? Actually, I don’t care, just stop doing it. They’re cold and wriggly, and it’s weird.

 

Clarke looked down in surprise. Her feet were curled up under her, weren’t they?

 

Apparently not. Somehow, at some point, her legs had uncurled, and her freezing feet had insinuated themselves under the backs of Bellamy’s legs so that he was now sitting on them. They must not have been there long, but they were already much warmer. She cocked her head in thought. It wasn’t ideal, but he _was_ stealing her popcorn. Seemed like a fair trade to her.

 

Clarke Griffin

8:06 pm:

A. I didn’t realize I was doing that.

B. No. If you have to be in my personal space, you might as well be good for something.

 

Bellamy shot her a venomous glare, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he contented himself with taking yet another giant handful of her popcorn.

 

At some point in the midst of this exchange, Lincoln had let himself into the apartment, and he now quietly made his way into the living room. As he looked around for Octavia, the faint flickers of two cell phone screens being clicked off caught his eye. He paused, taking in the tableau before him: Clarke, curled up on the middle of the sofa with her feet tucked snugly under Bellamy, and Bellamy, leaning against her legs ever so slightly to reach into the bowl that sat in her lap. It was...shockingly cordial, especially for the two of them. He would almost call it intimate, but given the people in question, that seemed like a stretch.

 

He found Octavia sitting alone on the loveseat, smirking that Blake smirk at him. As he sat, he nodded at the sofa and whispered, “Do you see--”

 

“Mmmhmm,” she nodded smugly. “Yes, I do.”

 

Jasper Jordan

8:15 pm:

you guys i just saw what’s happening next to me. jesus take the wheel. this is my dream.

 

Monty Green

8:16 pm:

I need you to take it down one, possibly two notches. Actually, several notches. Just for my sake. Your heavy breathing is distracting me from the movie.

 

Octavia Blake

8:18 pm:

Just think J-- if they notice you fangirling, they’ll realize what’s happening and freak out. It will be awkward, and they will never touch each other again.

 

Jasper Jordan

8:19 pm:

ok ok ok. not worth the risk. ill just go home and journal about it.

 

“Hey!” shouted Finn, causing three heads to snap up from where they had been staring at their phones. “I thought we said no phones.”

 

There was a general sigh and some grumbling-- something about _fucking buzzkill_ \-- but Octavia, Jasper, and Monty dutifully put their phones away.

 

Only Jasper noticed the smarmy, “you dated that asshole” look Bellamy gave Clarke and the kick she somehow managed to hit him with without ever moving her now-warm feet. And no one, not even Clarke or Bellamy, noticed that neither the look nor the kick had any real malice behind it; no one noticed that they both looked away with the faintest of smiles.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww... so maybe this story won't end with Clarke and Bellamy ripping each other's throats out! Maybe. (Also, so typical of the gang to repeatedly break the only two rules of movie night.)
> 
> In chapter four, word about the superlative nominations gets to Chancellor Jaha, which means it's only a matter of time before the news gets to Abby. How will she feel about Clarke and Bellamy's (nonexistent) relationship? Will she give the game away? We'll also get a glimpse of the one other place our contentious couple is forced to interact with one another: work. When their shifts at the coffee shop get rearranged, will someone end up with a face full of hot latte?


	4. Coffee Shop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! After years of avoiding each other at work, our obstinate OTP is forced to work the same shift. Dear God... This can only end badly, right? Or maybe not. Also, are Abby and Jaha catching on to Operation Parent Trap? Will they put a stop to it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: if you guys haven't noticed, each chapter is one day, starting with Monday. Obviously, that makes this chapter Thursday.

From: tjaha@drop.ship.edu  
To: abgriff@stpauls.com  
Re: Clarke  
April 27, 2014  
8:02 am

Abby--

The list of nominations for school superlatives just came across my desk for approval, and Clarke is on it. But I'm a little concerned. Someone put her up for Most Likely to Succeed, but...she was also nominated for Cutest Couple. With Bellamy Blake. 

I don't think Wells has ever mentioned her being in a relationship with anyone, and I know they still keep in touch. And the last I heard, she and Bellamy Blake were at each other's throats, if her rants about him at Thanksgiving were any indication. The way I see it, either they are actually together (which seems unlikely, though not impossible. I remember what you and Jake were like before you were together) or this is some sort of joke orchestrated by their friends. Didn't she say that his sister is one of her roommates? 

Now, if this is a prank, it seems like a harmless one. They won't win; they'll just be shocked to see their names on the ballot. Maybe it'll even inspire them to bury the hatchet. So may I suggest that you don't mention this to her? I know you'll want to ask, but be vague. That way, if they are actually together, she'll tell you, and you can know for sure. 

I'll see you and Jake for dinner Friday. Still at 7?  
T.J. 

 

From: abgriff@stpauls.com  
To: tjaha@drop.ship.edu  
Re, re: Clarke  
April 26, 2014  
8:52 am

That is just ridiculous. It has to be a prank. I'm not naive enough to think that Clarke tells me everything, but one thing she has told me, repeatedly, is that she loathes Bellamy Blake. Loathes, and you know as well as I do that that’s not like her.

That said...I'll ask her. Subtly. Because on the off chance that it is legitimate, I'd like to know. Frankly, I don't think I'd be comfortable with it. Her relationship with the last boy ended disastrously, and even though they've remained friends, she hasn't dated anyone in over a year. For her to break that dry spell with someone she's spent so much time hating... It just seems like a bad idea to me, that's all. Thank you for telling me.

See you Friday at 7.  
Abby

 

John from Work  
10:15 am:  
Hey Clarke, sorry for how last-minute this is, but something’s come up. You know Sharon, who works front of house? Well, her youngest has the flu (or maybe strep?), and she needs some time off. I’m having to move some shifts around-- would you mind covering the closing shift tonight and Saturday? I know it’s a huge change, and if you can’t do it, I completely understand, but it’d just be for this week, and you’d get time and a half. Let me know as soon as you can!

Clarke Griffin  
10:17 am:  
Actually, my one evening class is cancelled this week, so yeah, I should be able to. Be there at six, right? 

John from Work  
10:20 am:  
Yes!!! Thanks so much! 

 

Clarke Griffin  
10:21 am:  
Hey, my boss just asked me to take over the closing shift for the rest of the week, and I’m gonna do it, so I won’t be home until after midnight. Just didn’t want you guys to worry.

Raven Reyes  
10:24 am:  
Ooh, that sucks. Well, we’ll save you some dinner so you don’t have to stop on the way home. 

Clarke Griffin  
10:27 am:  
I love you.

Octavia Blake  
10:31 am:  
And me.

Clarke Griffin  
10:32 am:  
And you.

 

Octavia Blake  
10:32 am:  
GUYS. Clarke just switched to the closing shift at the coffee place. Unless I’m much mistaken...

Nathan Miller  
10:34 am:  
You are not mistaken.

Jasper Jordan  
10:37 am:  
a;lsdkfja

Octavia Blake  
10:40 am:  
I’m actually concerned about how much I’m agreeing with Jasper recently. 

Nathan Miller  
10:43 am:  
It’s okay. I’m starting to like it too.

Lincoln  
10:45 am:  
Did you guys not before? Is that not why we’re doing the whole Cutest Couple thing?

Raven Reyes  
10:50 am:  
Yeah, Lincoln and I have been talking about what their kids are gonna look like for like a year now. (The general consensus is that they’ll have great hair.) 

Octavia Blake  
10:52 am:  
@Lincoln- it was just supposed to be funny! They’re both so serious, and it would be pretty great to see them all angry and flustered. But now I kinda want it.  
@Raven- you guys are weird. But I guess I no longer have any room to talk.

Jasper Jordan  
10:55 am:  
yeeeesssssssssssssss. YES. 

 

It felt weird going to the coffee shop at night. Working the opening shift was exhausting, but it was nice to start the day surrounded by unlimited espresso. And the afternoon shifts were good too, despite the lunch rush. But who even went to a coffee shop at night? Much to Clarke’s surprise, the answer was: a lot of people. 

Slipping in through the back door, she passed her old shift-mate Josh. He mostly did back of house stuff-- baking the pastries, working the panini press, making sure the front bar was stocked so Clarke didn’t have to leave the register to make drinks-- and they had established a pretty solid rapport over the last few months. They exchanged quick hey’s, and Clarke sent up a quick prayer that her new shift-mate would be as cooperative.

She didn’t see anyone as she clocked in and swiped her apron off the hook by the door. The kitchen looked empty as she made her way to the front. There wasn’t anyone in line at the moment, so she and the current barista (Monroe, maybe?) made a smooth handoff, and she quickly took inventory of the counter. 

Coffee pots? Empty.  
Milk? Warm, and almost gone.  
Espresso maker? In need of refilling.  
Pastry case? Dwindling.  
Condiments? A cesspool of sugar and spilled cream. 

God. Clarke thanked her lucky stars that this wasn’t her normal shift and made a mental note to be extra nice to Josh when her schedule went back to normal. Resisting the urge to grumble, she trudged back through the kitchen to the deep freezer for milk and more espresso beans. This time, she could see that the big oven was on, but there was still no one in sight. Maybe it was for the best. If she never saw her shift-mate, then she wouldn’t be tempted to berate them for the state of the counter.

But that was, of course, too good to be true. Moments later, as she was kicking the door to the freezer shut, she caught sight of her partner. She could hear the bag of espresso beans crackling in her tightening grip. Thanks to two years of never having the same schedule, she had almost managed to forget that he worked here.

Maybe it was the sound of Clarke unconsciously crushing the bag of beans in her hand that made Bellamy turn around, ripping his arm from the oven and not thinking to close it.

The orange glow of the oven coils made his skin a map of golden planes and shadowed angles as his eyes flew wide, then narrowed. “God, you scared the shit out of me, Princess. You can’t just creep up on someone when they have their arm in a fucking oven!” Heaving a deep breath, he asked, “What are you even doing here?”

Inhaling slowly, she replied as levelly as she could, “John had to move some people around. I’m covering this shift for the rest of the week. It would probably be best if--”

She was cut off by the slam of the oven door as Bellamy pulled out a giant pan of what looked like cookies. (Well, at least that took care of the empty pastry case.) “Jesus, are you serious? The rest of the week?”

Nodding, she went on, “Really just tonight and Saturday, when I normally work.” She took another deep breath. This was fine. She could do her job no matter who she was working with. She just had to stay calm.

Without really hearing her, Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, which was already speckled with flour in some places, and demanded, “Why aren’t you in the front?”

Clarke tried to breathe. She really did. She tried to be Zen. And it would’ve worked if it had been anyone else talking to her this way. But one look at his expectant face that seemed to demand, “Well?”, and she was done for. 

“Excuse me,” she said, a little louder than she meant to, “I wouldn’t have to be back here if you could do your damn job and keep the front bar stocked! I just got here, only to find that there is no coffee, no milk, and nothing in the case. So I’m sorry if I didn’t feel like waiting around for you-- who was nowhere to be found, by the way-- to get your head out of your ass.”

Crossing the small kitchen in two long strides, he stopped a foot away from her and hissed, “Shut up. This is a small place, and no one wants to hear your voice any more than I do. Go restock whatever you already have, and I’ll take care of it. It’s not my fault that you came in right after the evening rush ended. And...” he shook his head, eyes closed as if in prayer, “loosen the fuck up, okay? This is a pretty calm shift.”

Unfortunately, he turned out to be right. Monroe had handled whatever rush there was going to be, so it was an infuriatingly slow night. Clarke performed a total of twelve transactions in four hours. Of course, she spent the first couple hours actually working, then trying to tidy up and keep busy, just so it didn’t look like she was sitting down on the job. The last few were spent literally sitting down, partly because there was nothing else to do, and partly because Bellamy had barked at her that she was “getting on his last nerve, just pacing around and getting in his way.” Which was weird, because they’d actually been working pretty well together. They didn’t speak, just worked around each other with silent efficiency.

Around nine o’clock, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and Bellamy, who didn’t see any sense in baking anything else for the night, took over the register and shooed her off to answer it. 

Hopping onto a counter in the kitchen, Clarke brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Mom, I’m at work, so I can’t talk for long. What’s up?”

“Not much, just wanted to check in. I thought you worked in the mornings.” Abby’s voice was light.

Clarke sighed into the phone. “Yeah, normally I do, but someone’s son got sick, so the shifts got all mixed up. Now I’m stuck working with Asshat Bellamy.”

Her mother murmured knowingly, no stranger to her daughter’s nickname for the young man. “I’m sorry to hear that, honey. Speaking of which, though, are you seeing anyone lately?” Given the colorful epithet, she was pretty sure she knew the answer already, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Still single,” Clarke confirmed. “But what do you mean, ‘speaking of which’? What possible link could there be between Asshat and my love life?” 

Abby could hear the grimace through the phone. Now assured that Clarke was merely the victim of a silly joke and not, in fact, romantically misguided, she said, “There wasn’t! The thought just popped into my head. But since you’re working, I’ll let you go. We can talk later. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

 

Shoving her phone back into her apron pocket, Clarke emerged from the kitchen to reclaim the register, only to find the register abandoned and Bellamy lying across one of the big leather couches with a book. She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of, “Everything you’re doing right now is wrong,” but then she looked around.

There was no one in the shop. Not a single soul besides them. And from what she could see through the windows, there wasn’t even anyone walking down the street who could potentially come in. Not surprising for a Thursday night, when she really thought about it. 

A little while later, she plunked a cardboard cup down on the coffee table in front of Bellamy, then settled onto the pretentiously futuristic-looking divan on the other side with a cup of her own. He peered over the top of his book, brow furrowed suspiciously. 

“Try it,” was all Clarke said. 

Bellamy seemed to weigh his options for a moment before taking a careful sip from the cup. Clarke watched on in amusement as his careful sip became a solid gulp. Finally lowering the cup, he asked, “What is that?”

“Good, right?” She took a triumphant sip of her own.

He snorted. “Don’t sound so smug. Seriously, what is it?”

Clarke couldn’t quite keep herself from smirking. “It’s one of the steamed milk drinks from the kid’s menu. Just steamed milk and a couple pumps of the flavoring syrup. It’s got enough sugar to knock your teeth out, but they’re delicious.” 

Grudgingly, he gave a tiny nod. After a beat, he added, “Thanks.” 

She just hummed around the cup at her lips in acknowledgement. 

 

Somewhere around her third cycle through the flashcards on her study app, Bellamy tossed his book onto the coffee table, making her look up at him. “So, I don’t think John would care if we closed up early, since there hasn’t been anyone here in two hours.” 

Clarke could only credit the weird disappointment she felt to the fact that she was comfortable and being somewhat productive. She didn’t particularly feel like leaving. All the same, she said, “Probably not. Do you have the key to lock up?” 

He nodded, crossing to the front door to flip the “open” sign and lock the door. She made her way around the shop, turning off the lights in the lobby and the bathrooms. They met up again by the back door, clocking out, hanging up their aprons, and locking the last door after themselves. 

“Where’s your car?” 

The question caught Clarke off-guard after the long minutes of silence. “Uh, the lot was full when I got here, so I parked around the side.” The “in the terrifying alley that’s straight out of a horror movie” was left unsaid. 

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he frowned, pursed his lips, then cocked his head to look at her. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?” At her confused look, he jammed his hands into his pockets and sighed. “If it were O parked in the dark alley, I would want someone to offer.” 

Clarke looked down, understanding now. It was simultaneously her favorite and least favorite thing about Bellamy: he wasn’t always so bad. Never with his sister. But that part of him showed itself so rarely, and it was mostly hidden under his usual attitude. She wanted to say no, just to prove that being nice sometimes didn’t make up for being horrible the rest of the time. But just like she hadn’t wanted to leave the coffee shop, she wasn’t quite ready to see this side of him go just yet. This time, she indulged the feeling. “Actually, yeah. That’d be nice.” 

Like they had all night, they stuck to their guaranteed formula for not bickering: silence. But it was an okay sort of silence, as they wound around the building; not exactly warm, but not awkward or resentful either. When they reached her car, she opened the door and said, “Thanks.”

Bellamy nodded, and she saw in the faint light that he still had a little bit of flour in his curling hair. She gripped her keys with the hand that wanted to brush it out. “Not a problem. Night.”

“Night.”

 

Octavia Blake  
11:00 pm:  
So, how’s working with my brother?

 

Clarke Griffin  
11:03 pm:  
We actually closed up early, so I’m on my way home now. But it was...surprisingly okay. No one got hot coffee thrown in their face, so... 

Octavia Blake  
11:07 pm:  
Hmmm. Good. Well, be careful. I’ll see you when you get home.

 

Octavia Blake  
11:08 pm:  
Okay, Operation Parent Trap is no longer a simple prank. We’re doing it for real, people. I will not be satisfied until my brother and my roommate are madly in love with each other.

Monty Green  
11:10 pm:  
You can’t hear the porpoise-like sounds coming out of Jasper’s room right now, but I can, and i hate you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 432 years to post. Technically I'm 2 hours shy of my promised daily updates. Oh well, that's what I get for leaving my house for an extended period of time. Lame. But hey, this chapter is just a bit longer, by way of apology. 
> 
> In our next chapter, the gang decides to divide and conquer. Bellamy and Clarke won't actually be interacting-- instead, their mutual friends will be oh-so-casually trying to determine how each of them feels about the other. Because they've gotten a little friendlier, right? Maybe? Or is all the passion in their relationship still firmly of the "unadulterated loathing" variety? 
> 
> (And hey, don't let their lack of interaction get you down! Absence and heart and fondness and all. No promises for what chapter six is gonna be like, but... There might be fondness. Or some reasonable approximation.)


	5. Feels City, Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to split up the dream team and feel them out-- do they still hate each other? What do they have to say about each other? They're both a little confused right now, but will they ever admit that to their friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, our "daily" update sliding in at 4:40 am. Nbd. It still counts as today, right?  
> Either way, we're still following the chapter/day structure! I wrote this on Friday, and it takes place on Friday.

Raven Reyes  
2:01 pm:  
Okay, I think we need to divide and conquer tonight. C & B have seen each other three nights in a row, and they somehow haven’t murdered each other. A fourth would definitely result in some sort of godawful blowout. So, I say we reschedule Mario Party for some other time, in favor of some good recon. (Don’t worry-- I’ll tell Finn it’s cancelled.)

Monty Green  
2:05 pm:  
Recon? 

Octavia Blake  
2:08 pm:  
I think what she means is that we should feel them out, individually. Find out where they stand. Because like she said, they’ve been weirdly chill lately (or, as chill as they’ve ever been) so something must have changed, right? We can pump them for information, and maybe try to plant the seeds of suggestion? 

Jasper Jordan  
2:13 pm:  
let’s do it. if any person in the whole world is prepared to make a case for why they should be together, that person is me. but bellamy’s gonna be a tough sell.

Nathan Miller  
2:17 pm:  
You know, he might not be as tough as you think. I’ve listened to a lot of his Clarke rants, and you don’t yell about “that stupid fucking girl and her stupid fucking face” if you aren’t pissed off about how cute you think her face is.

Jasper Jordan  
2:19 pm:  
oh my god he loves her face. i knew it. 

Raven Reyes  
2:22 pm:  
He can be a jerk, but he’s not blind. And neither is she, by the way. She hasn’t dated anyone since the whole thing with us and Finn sophomore year, and I’m like 100% sure she hasn’t had any one-night stands. It might be time to use her sexual frustration against her.

Jasper Jordan  
2:25 pm:  
i had a dream like this once.  
Monty Green  
2:27 pm:  
No one wants to hear about that. As someone who can never un-hear about that (and couldn’t look Bellamy in the eye for several days after), I promise they don’t. Anyway, do you guys think Clarke is gonna be more resistant than he is?

Octavia Blake  
2:31 pm:  
Maybe. I love that girl, but she can hold a grudge like a sonofabitch. But at the same time, she’s all into “second chances” and that kind of thing. Except where Finn is concerned, thank God.

Raven Reyes  
2:33 pm:  
Leave Clarke to me. 

Jasper Jordan  
2:33 pm:  
...i also had a dream like THAT once.

Raven Reyes  
2:34 pm:  
First of all, no.

 

Bellamy could hear the noise from inside his apartment before he even approached the door, and he braced himself for the whirlwind of energy that was Jasper and Monty. God only knew how they could smoke as much weed as they did and still have such constant raw enthusiasm. At least he could count on Miller to be relaxed. Or so he thought.

The three boys were crammed onto the couch, jostling and jamming elbows into each other as they competed in what Bellamy recognized as an unusually difficult mini-game.

“Are we not waiting on Finn and the girls?” he called over the blaring sound effects. 

As Monty was declared the winner, Miller twisted in his seat to peer back at Bellamy. “Not coming. Finn is busy, I think, and Raven texted me earlier and said that they were gonna do some girly Netflix and bonding thing.”

Either Bellamy didn’t feel like quantifying the sinking feeling in his gut, or he realized that he couldn’t. Either way, he pointedly didn’t think too much about it as he picked up the controller that had been left on the empty couch for him.

 

Clarke would’ve been lying if she said that the change in plans wasn’t a relief. Fridays always felt somehow interminable-- the sheer potential of the weekend seemed like a mirage on the horizon, even though, realistically, she knew that a big chunk of her time would be devoted to work and studying. She wanted to make the most of the time she finally had to herself, and video games at Bellamy and Miller’s place didn’t exactly fit the bill. (Something about her mother’s lectures on how video games were actually a valid method for improving manual dexterity in surgeons-- and, ahem, future surgeons-- kind of sucked the fun out of them.) So when Octavia greeted her at the door with a massive cup of tea and the promise of a girls-only night in, she could have cried, or kissed her, or both. 

Raven and Octavia had apparently already chosen the movie, which Clarke didn’t mind. The ‘93 Much Ado About Nothing had something for all of them: drama, romance, Kenneth Branagh, and the inherent hilarity of the casting department trying to pass Denzel Washington and Keanu Reeves off as half-siblings. (And if Clarke saw her relationship with Octavia mirrored in the Beatrice/Hero dynamic, she never mentioned it to the younger girl.) 

Just a few minutes into the movie, they were interrupted by a delivery from their favorite Thai place-- yet another decision made without Clarke’s input but with her wholehearted approval. Despite her control-freak tendencies, or maybe because of them, sometimes it was nice to have other people take care of everything. Clarke was pretty sure, as they resumed their movie in their apartment that now smelled like peanut sauce, curry, and black tea, that this was going to be the best night she’d had in a long time. Or so she thought. 

 

 

“So, don’t tell them this,” Miller gritted out, mashing buttons furiously, “but I’m kinda bummed that the girls couldn’t come.”

“Me too,” Monty piped up. “You guys get so predictable after a while.” He snickered evilly as his Yoshi dodged the bombs being hurled at him with surprising ease. “I can usually count on Raven to be creative.”

Determined look still plastered across his face, Miller agreed. “And Octavia is the funniest, whether she wins or loses. Seriously, I have never seen a meaner winner or a poutier loser in my life.” 

Jasper cackled. “And Clarke throws the best shade. Seriously, she talks shit like it’s her job.”

It was Monty’s turn to laugh now, as he watched their silent friend’s eyebrows knit together in displeasure. “And it’s almost always aimed at poor Bellamy, who has never ever done anything to deserve it, ever.” 

Bellamy’s eyes cut away from the screen for a fraction of a second. “I haven’t.”

Miller shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” When he received no response, he went on. “You guys fight constantly. The only difference here is that it can be funny for the rest of us.”

“Instead of, you know,” Jasper added, “painfully uncomfortable. I’m surprised she even bothers to argue when it’s always so obvious that you don’t want her around. If it were me, I would just never come over.” 

Now Bellamy looked away for long enough to catch Jasper’s eye and study him for a second. “I’ve never told her I don’t want her around.”

“Like you had to,” Monty grimaced as his player took a hit. “Like Miller said, you fight constantly. I’m pretty positive that you couldn’t make her feel less welcome if you actually came right out at said it. You guys should really sort your shit out, whatever it is.”

No one said anything for a long time. Jasper, worried that their casual probing had accidentally spoiled the mood, opened his mouth to say something lighthearted, but Bellamy spoke. “I’m not sure I even remember why we started hating each other. All I know is that she rubbed me the wrong way right off the bat. After that, you just sort of find yourself hating everything that person says or does, all of the time. I guess it’s gotten better lately, though.” 

Peeking at the others from the corner of his eye, Jasper grinned. “Yeah, it has, hasn’t it? You guys looked awfully cozy the other night. I wondered why you sat by her in the first place.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “We were not cozy. I was doing her a favor.” Even as he said it, it struck him as odd. Since when did he do anything for her, especially unasked?

 

 

“Since when does he do anything nice for you, ever?” Octavia asked, baffled. They had paused Much Ado on the scene where Beatrice was asking Benedick to kill Claudio-- a comparison of the odd couple to a more familiar but equally argumentative duo (and Clarke’s violent protest) had given way to a teasing interrogation by Octavia. 

Clarke just shook her head. “I don’t know. I was grateful, so I didn’t really question his motives at the time. Maybe it was like last night, and he was thinking about you.”

A spark caught in the brunette’s eye as she latched on to this new intrigue. “What do you mean, ‘like last night’? What happened last night?”

Fighting the urge to fill her mouth with so much curry that she couldn’t possibly be expected to answer questions, Clarke leveled her gaze on Octavia. “Nothing. I had to park my car in that creepy alleyway, so he walked me over after we closed. Said that if it were you, he would want someone to offer.”

Octavia said nothing, a small smile inching across her face. Raven, who hadn’t really been involved in the inquisition up until now, laughed drily. “God, you’ve got more willpower than I do. If I’d been single for two years and found myself in a dark alley with a hot guy?” she gave a low whistle. “I don’t think I could be held responsible for my actions.”

Slack-jawed, Clarke huffed out a disbelieving, “Hah! Jesus, Raven, it’s not like I’ve been a nun for two years! I’ve met guys and been on dates and...stuff. And even if I were inclined to drag a guy into an alley and have my way with him, I would probably pick someone who actually likes me, and not Bellamy fucking Blake!” 

Raven darted a quick glance at Octavia. They had both heard it: at no point had Clarke disputed his attractiveness or claimed to be uninterested. And what’s more, she hadn’t expressly objected to the idea of sleeping with him either, only of sleeping with someone who didn’t like her. There was absolutely zero chance that she had meant to omit those things, and an equal chance that she realized that she had done it, but that only made it all the more telling. 

“Whatever,” Raven shrugged. “Neither of us gave a shit about each other when we hooked up that one time right after the Finncident, and it was still fun. My memories of that night might be a little hazy, but I still say you should give it a go. You have needs just like everyone else. What’s the use in having all of these guys around us all the time if they aren’t useful in an emergency?”

All Clarke managed to choke out was, “Is this what you define as an emergency?”

Raven and Octavia nodded as one. “Yeah,” Octavia answered for both of them. “Two years? I’d say that’s an emergency.” 

Unease and curry mingled in her stomach, along with the grim realization that they might actually be right about her neglected needs. And there was something else, something her mind kept coming back to. It was like a coin resting precariously on its edge-- she couldn’t quite decide if she was okay with it or not, but it would eventually fall to one side or the other. So she made some lame joke about needing a sexual EMT and tried not to think about it. Maybe if she left it alone, that coin would stay right where it was and not complicate anything.

 

 

Apparently, explaining the concept of a favor was a complicated matter, provided the favor was between Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin. For what must have been the third time, Bellamy heard himself say, slowly, “I don’t know. She looked freaked out. Finn is weird. I sat down. The end.” 

Finally, finally his three companions seemed ready to accept that at face value. “Finn is a nice guy,” Monty offered, “but what he did to Clarke and Raven was shitty. He and Raven are still good friends somehow, but I know it messed Clarke up pretty bad.”

Jasper added, “Has she even been with anyone since they broke up? Because I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.” Almost as an afterthought, he navigated his player through a maze, faster than human fingers should be capable of moving.

Bellamy shook his head. “There’s no way. That was, what-- two years ago? No way.”

“Actually,” said Monty, “I’m almost positive she hasn’t. I think Raven made some joke about it a while back.”

“In that case,” Miller smirked, “I’ll tell my friend Murphy that he should make his move. Two years is about how long it would take for a girl to be willing to fuck him.”

“Hey. No.” With three pairs of eyes on him, Bellamy now found himself unable to explain his brief outburst. He thought about just leaving it at that-- why bother trying to explain himself?-- but he could tell from the question marks basically hovering over their heads that his friends weren’t planning on letting him off the hook. He exhaled deeply. “That Murphy guy’s no good. The Princess can decide for herself who she spends her time with, but I don’t want that guy around O.” 

Monty, Jasper, and Miller exchanged looks ranging from puzzled to downright unconvinced. Who cared? Let them think what they wanted. Bellamy knew... What? What did he actually know? That he hated Clarke? Because he wasn’t sure he did. They weren’t technically friends, and maybe it had just been the random favor that had smoothed things over a little, but things did seem...better. If only just a little. And as much as he told himself that he didn’t care whether they got along or not, he couldn’t deny that the movie night, and even most of their shift together at work, had been almost pleasant without their usual sniping. A little ball of something like anxiety gathered under his ribcage, and frankly, he couldn’t decide if he was okay with it or not. But there were plenty of other things to think about, so he just left the feeling alone; it would sort itself out eventually.

 

Jasper Jordan  
11:15 pm:  
OH MY GOD

Octavia Blake  
11:20 pm:  
SAME. But you go first.

Monty Green  
11:22 pm:  
To save you from the novel-length text I can actually see Jasper typing out right now, basically Bellamy doesn’t want Clarke to date some friend of Miller’s.

Jasper Jordan  
11:23 pm:  
UH he literally shouted when miller suggested it. (and i didn’t laugh even a little bit. 0 glee shown on this face tonight. 2cool. 4 for u jasper. u go jasper.)

Nathan Miller  
11:25 pm:  
They’re not exaggerating. He was like, “Hey, NO,” really loudly. But then he played it off and made it about O. He also didn’t believe that she hasn’t dated anybody in 2 years, which seems like a good thing. 

Raven Reyes  
11:28 pm:  
Nice! We see your “acknowledgement of attractiveness” and “vague jealously”, and we raise you “acknowledgement of attractiveness” and “probable willingness to bang.” BOOM, Reyes out.

Jasper Jordan  
11:29 pm:  
nuh UH. THAT DID NOT HAPPEN. TELL ME IT HAPPENED. EXPLICITLY

Nathan Miller  
11:31 pm:  
Yeah, I feel like you have to be stretching at least a little. Plus, sex =/= affection. Ours was way more indicative of actual emotional interest.

Octavia Blake  
11:32 pm:  
It did!! She didn’t outright say, “Hey, I’d hit that,” but still. Raven said she should “give him a go”, and Clarke just said she’d rather break her dry spell with someone who actually liked her. Not “not with Bellamy”, mind you! Just someone who doesn’t hate her like she thinks he does.

Raven Reyes  
11:35 pm:  
And emotional interest is great and all, but people can die pining for each other from a distance. Trust me, let them get all that UST out of the way, and it’ll be feels city, bitch.

Jasper Jordan  
11:37 pm:  
it already IS feels city. ive got feels for days.

Monty Green  
11:39 pm:  
Seriously. If they actually hook up, we may have to rename our apartment “Feels City”. J will be a wreck. I might have to move.

Lincoln  
11:42 pm:  
...is this what you people do when I leave my phone at home for one day? Seriously, Octavia, I just read all of these. Is this what you do??

Octavia Blake  
11:44 pm:  
<3 <3 <3  
sshhhhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get #wearejasper trending. Jk don't do that. I mean, you can, but don't. 
> 
> Btw, thanks for all the positive feedback, you guys! It warms the cockles of my little heart to see your comments and kudos and stuff. 
> 
> In our next installment, Bellamy and Clarke are forced to spend their Saturday night working. Together. Again. Will this time be any better than the last, or will all this oh-so-subtle pressure from their friends make them snap? 
> 
> Aaaaaaaaand you know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder. Since our devious duo had no dialogue in this chapter...will there be fondness? Or, you know, some reasonable approximation thereof?


	6. Monty's Liquid Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for our confused couple's last shift together. They're stuck working on a Saturday night, and neither of them is totally sure about how they feel. Will it end in tears?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make you wait an extra day for this update by accident (by, say, falling asleep in the middle of writing), or was it to build anticipation for this chapter? Read on and see...
> 
>  
> 
> (It was by accident.)

Raven Reyes  
10:00 am:  
Wake up.

Raven Reyes  
10:10 am:  
Seriously Clarke, you said to text you in the morning. It’s morning. Get up. 

Raven Reyes  
10:20 am:  
Whatever, I tried. If you oversleep and get nothing accomplished, you have no one to blame but yourself.

There might have been more, but after the third text, Clarke turned her phone off. She didn’t silence it or stuff it under her pillow like she might have any other morning. She got out of bed, opened her windows, laid back down, and turned her phone _off._

The sky was a blithe gray, indifferent to both the sun and the impending storm, and rain misted through the windows so lightly that Clarke almost didn’t notice it. But when the first fine puff of rain ghosted over her, sprawled out on top of her sheets with her comforter kicked to the foot of the bed, her skin practically sizzled. She wanted to break something, and at the same time, she felt too heavy and languid to move another inch-- like a ragdoll filled with burning rage. 

But was that what it was? Rage? It was something alright, and anger was certainly in there somewhere, but there was far more that she couldn’t put a finger on. Clarke couldn’t stop the dream from looping back through her head-- she had tried and failed-- so she just closed her eyes and let it all wash over her again.

It started out innocuously enough. Darkness. Warmth. Hands running up her arms. Oh yeah, she’d enjoyed that the first time. Hell, she had enjoyed it all the first time, and try as she might, she was kind of still enjoying it now. The darkness got heavier, closer as she felt breath on the side of her face, blazing a trail from her jaw to her shoulder. Lips moved against the shell of her ear, saying her name. The voice was somehow hollow, familiar but unrecognizable, as it echoed in her chest. She tipped her head up, her mouth meeting the other with a lazy steadiness that suggested that this was a common occurrence. There was no insistence behind that pressure, only a slow burn that she relished beyond shame. 

But it was there that she cut her recollection short. The dream had been a long one, deliciously long, and she chose to blame Raven for reminding her of her self-inflicted celibacy. Apparently, her subconscious mind wasn’t a fan of it any more than her waking self was. Clarke understood that, but all the same, she wished her mind had come up with some other coping strategy. Her already feverish skin was suffused with another wave of rolling heat as the last moments of the dream overtook her: not even the rain could soothe the prickling agitation that needled her as, from the darkness, her previously abstract companion became recognizable by his mess of dark hair, freckles, dimpled chin--

Nope. No. This was bad, and she was not revisiting the one moment of an otherwise great dream that made it all feel like shit. Clarke flipped over, burying her face in her pillow and letting the rain float down onto her exposed back and legs. She was confused and mad at herself and still uncomfortably turned on, but more than anything, she felt pathetic. Here she was, happily single but still basically burning a hole in her mattress dreaming about someone she hated. 

Well. She had to pause at that. Maybe she didn’t hate him these days. (Which was a whole other thing that she didn’t feel like sorting out.) But the point was, how much more pathetic could she possibly be, if this was what she had been reduced to? Sure, Bellamy was a good-looking guy. He always had been, and it had never changed anything before. How miserably lonely must she be now, if all it took was a few quasi-friendly interactions and some prodding from Raven for this asshole to completely take over her dreams? 

If she were stressed out over school or the future or her overbearing mother, she would have known what to do. Clarke Griffin was prepared; she had ironed out the perfect methods for shaking off her usual stressors years ago. But “I have just now realized how sexually frustrated I am and it has caused my brain to go to a really dark place” was not one of her usual stressors, to say the least, and she had no idea how to deal. After a moment’s consideration, she decided that she would rather err on the side of caution-- why not just throw all of her usual solutions at this new problem and see if one stuck?

This is how Clarke Griffin ended up spending an entire Saturday drinking jasmine tea, sketching and painting anything in sight, eating pizza while watching Family Feud, and soaking in the bathtub for over an hour. Nothing stuck. 

 

Octavia Blake  
3:14 pm:  
Hey, random question-- is my brother being super weird? Because Clarke is being super weird. I went home to grab some stuff to take to Lincoln’s, and she was just sitting in the middle of the floor, fucking COVERED in paint, eating pizza out of the box, and cackling at the Game Show Network. I’m pretty sure I heard her say, “I love you, Steve Harvey.” Did we break her???

Raven Reyes  
3:17 pm:  
Jfc, thanks for the heads up. You know how, after her mom calls, she always gets really artsy? And she insists on watching a shitload of Family Feud until she finds out what she made on a big test? Well, it sounds like she’s taking all of the things she does to calm herself down...and doing them all at once. So, bottom line, something’s wrong. Bad.

Monty Green  
3:22 pm:  
Yikes. If you guys are busy, Jasper and I can go over and hang out with her. You know, keep Sylvia’s head out of the oven. We’re actually in the car right now, so it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Raven Reyes  
3:23 pm:  
Nooooooooooo. Turn it around and go home. Don’t do it.

Octavia Blake  
3:24 pm:  
Yeah, no, that would be disastrous. You guys didn’t really witness much of the Finncident, but Clarke is a very solitary person when she’s upset. And not just, “I don’t want people to see me like this...” No. More like, “Do not look at, touch, or breathe on me, or my sadness will transform into fury in 0.2 seconds.” She’s gotten better, but I wouldn’t risk it.

Jasper Jordan  
3:46 pm:  
mom nooo. dont be sad! for the record, monty is taking us back to feels city, but only against my strong objection.

Nathan Miller  
3:50 pm:  
Sorry, my phone was on silent earlier. To answer your question, not really? I mean, he mostly just keeps to himself on the weekends, so I don’t really have anything to go on. If anything, he seemed a little antsy, but that’s it.

Octavia Blake  
3:52 pm:  
Hmmmmm... This is all very odd. Keep me posted.

Lincoln  
3:53 pm:  
Okay, great, now that that’s settled, would you please get your nose out of your phone and talk to me? We are literally sitting in the same room. Thanks.

 

 

Clarke had almost forgotten about the change in her work schedule until she realized that she was dreading it. She hauled herself out of the bathtub at five, got dressed, and threw her still-damp hair up into a halo braid that kept it from dripping onto her shirt, telling herself to quit being such an idiot. It was work, and the worst case scenario would be that she and Bellamy would sit around yelling at each other in an empty coffee shop. Not ideal, but it could definitely be worse, right? 

It turned out, though, that they would be doing just the opposite. Clarke had never worked a Saturday night, so she was completely unprepared for the slew of people apparently in need of caffeine after six pm. The vast majority of them seemed to be hipsters of one flavor or another-- a group of heavily-bearded guys and androgynous girls had pushed some tables together in the back left corner and was now drinking black coffee and loudly arguing over which Autre Ne Veut album was better. The couches were taken up by a flock of girls that looked like they all had more than thirty Pinterest boards each, plus a few well-coiffed guys with Buddy Holly glasses. They appeared to be some kind of book club, discussing The Secret History with great flair between sips of their tea.

Selfishly, Clarke wished that they were the type of coffee-shop-dwellers that would just order a single cup of coffee then brood over it for an hour before leaving. No such luck. These people genuinely loved coffee and would gulp it down just about as fast as Clarke could make it. Fortunately, they also really cared about what they ate, and since nothing in the pastry case was organic, gluten-free, or sugar-free, they didn’t want any part of it. This allowed Bellamy to emerge from the kitchen like a grumpy dragon and open the second register, which took some of the heat off Clarke. 

Just like they had on Thursday, they avoided speaking at all costs. Clarke was happy to have his help in the front, but she was still feeling a little prickly from that morning. Looking at Bellamy just reminded her of how shitty she had felt, and how shitty she she still felt, to some extent. And if he also reminded her of that dream...well, she was too busy to devote any real thought to it. Thank God. But the rush of Saturday night coffee drinkers actually kind of eliminated any tension there might have been-- there just wasn't time to be weird when they were constantly dancing around one another and trying not to burn themselves on the steam wand. 

After a while, they hit their stride. “Hey!” Bellamy called over his shoulder as Clarke drizzled caramel on top of a latte. He jerked his head toward the bottle, and she tossed it over to him in a neat arc. Grinning, he caught it, and they handed their cups over to their respective customers almost simultaneously. If they happened to exchange a quick high-five before either of them could question it, no one needed to know about that but them. The triumph of this little exchange led them to informally establish a system in which, rather than trying to get past one another to get things, one of them would nod at the thing they needed and the other would-- very carefully-- throw it.

Around ten, the crowd started to thin out, and Clarke was forced to slow down. Restocking the front bar took a little time, but eventually, she found herself with nothing to do but make herself a drink and talk to Bellamy. He was reorganizing his drawer, seemingly just for something to do with his hands, and didn’t notice her coming over until she slid a cup over to the side of his register. He looked up in surprise, then took the drink gratefully, closing the drawer and flipping around to mirror Clarke’s posture as she leaned her back against the counter.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a quick gulp from the cup. “You were good tonight, by the way.”

Clarke laughed, once. “Thanks. You too. I’m used to handling the morning or lunch rush, and my back-of-house guy is always too busy with his own stuff to help out front. It was nice to have a second set of hands.” 

“And that Cocktail thing wasn’t too bad either,” he smirked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

This time she laughed for real. “But which one of us is Tom Cruise in this scenario? Because I’m not sure I want to be Tom Cruise.”

“Ah, I could be eighties Cruise, easily. You can be his old Australian friend.” 

The rest of the night passed easily, with idle chatter and a few scones stolen from the case. Their last customers were a gaggle of students, probably only just twenty-one from the look of them, who stumbled in just before midnight. 

“Gotta keep the party goin’!” one of them had yelled, to the enthusiastic agreement of his friends.

Clarke smiled and refrained from telling them how miserable they were going to be in the morning if they consumed this much sugar. Of the five of them, they ordered three white chocolate mochas, two caramel toffee lattes, and two vanilla lattes. Clarke sincerely hoped that they were planning on sharing some of those with the couple in the back of the group that hadn’t unlocked their lips once in five minutes. Finally, she and Bellamy sent them on their way, lugging two cardboard drink-holders.

As Bellamy cleaned up behind the counter, Clarke walked around the lobby and cleared off the tables. (A disturbing number of people, she noticed, prefered to leave their trash sitting on the tabletop, rather than walk the single step that it would take them to reach the nearest trash can.) 

“Is it weird that I’m kinda jealous of those shitfaced sophomores?” she asked, pulling the bags from the trash cans. 

“Depends on why,” Bellamy shouted as he walked deeper into the kitchen. 

Clarke waited until he was back out, wheeling the mop bucket behind him, to reply. “Just because they were doing such a typical college thing. You know, going out on Saturday night, drinking way too much, goofing off with their friends. I mean, our group is almost ridiculously close, so it’s not like we have a shortage of goofing off, but just...the whole thing, I guess.”

Bellamy cocked his head thoughtfully before looking up at her with a wry grin. “So you’re jealous that they’re drunk?”

After a moment, she said, “Yeah, actually, I think I might be. I have a drink every now and then, sure, but only ever just the one. Even when we go out, I feel like I have to be the responsible one, so I mostly stay sober. It’s been ages since I was really, truly drunk.”

“Makes sense. You know Jasper calls you ‘mom’, right?” 

“Believe me, I know. And I don’t mind doing the mom thing. But I would still like to get really hammered once in a while. Know what I mean?”

“Oh, believe me,” he chuckled, “I know.” It was then that he was struck with an idea that might have been anywhere from iffy to outright terrible, but he couldn’t stop it from rolling right out of his mouth. “You know, Miller and I have a giant bottle of that disgusting liquid death that Monty mixes. If you want to get drunk somewhere you don’t have to worry about anyone else, you’re more than welcome to it, and I can take you home after.” 

The offer hung in the air for a long second while Clarke tried to process. It was really, really, uncharacteristically nice of him. Because getting drunk somewhere that wasn’t too loud, with just one or two other people, was pretty much Clarke’s ideal drinking situation. And with Monty’s liquid death cocktail, it would take her all of three drinks to get there, at which point Bellamy could take her home to her roommates, who would be silly with her and tuck her in when she passed out. The fact that she would have to hang out with him for the duration for those two drinks would normally be a pretty strong deterrent, but tonight hadn’t been too bad, had it? And wasn’t a somewhat less-than-desirable drinking companion preferable to the stigma of drinking alone?

So she found herself nodding slowly and saying, “Count me in.” 

Closing hadn’t taken much longer after that, and minutes later, they were in Bellamy’s ridiculous muscle car on the way across town. They argued over the radio station with no real heat but with such verve that they hardly noticed when they pulled into the parking lot. Clarke was still insisting that classic rock was not the end-all, be-all of music when he unlocked the door to the apartment.

“Would you please shut up and come in?” he asked, faux exasperated. Inside, he pulled the fridge open and plonked a huge bottle onto the counter next to her. “Now, fewer words, more booze.”

Clarke didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled two tall glasses out of a cabinet, poured two massive drinks, and pushed one down the counter to Bellamy. “Back atcha.” Saluting him with her glass, she took a long drink and broke off with a shuddering gasp. “Oh God, I forgot how bad that is.”

Bellamy finished his own sip, which had been much more conservative, and laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s just all alcohol and no mixer. Like a Manhattan...but terrible.” 

After another gag-inducing gulp, she couldn’t bring herself to argue. The only thing this drink had going for it was how quickly it numbed her tongue. 

“So,” Bellamy led the way into his living room, where he collapsed onto a couch, “why the sudden urge to drink?” It was a personal question, maybe too personal for their odd relationship. They were in the same ultra-close group of friends, so they had an intimate knowledge of each other’s lives as a matter of course. They had never really discussed anything terribly personal, but they knew things just the same as if they had.

If the question made Clarke uncomfortable, she didn’t show it. Instead, she simply folded herself onto the other end of the couch and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just felt like it. It’s my last semester, and I’m usually worried about one thing or another. There are worse ways to unwind.” And unwinding she was, as she tipped her glass back only to find it empty. She made a little sound of disappointment before hauling herself to her feet again. “Need a refill?” she asked, heading for the kitchen. It had only been a few minutes, but between her quick drinking and the strength of the drink, it hadn’t taken long for Monty’s latest poison to go straight to her head.

“Nah,” Bellamy shook his head. “I’m driving you home, remember?” 

Clarke scoffed, wobbling back into the living room not with a full glass but with her empty glass and the whole bottle. Dropping into her corner of the couch, she said, “Oh, come on. I’d rather call a cab than drink alone at someone else’s house. Especially,” she flapped her hand in his direction.

Mouth twisting into a half-scowl, he snatched the bottle from her hand and topped his glass off. “Sorry I’m not your ideal drinking buddy, Princess. But it is my booze, so you have to be nice.” 

He hadn’t really sounded offended, but Clarke still felt a little guilty. They had been getting along so well recently, and here she was screwing it up. “Sorry,” she winced, unfolding her legs to drape over his. It was an invasion of personal space, but she was rapidly losing feeling in her extremities, so she couldn’t bring herself to mind. “I just mean that it would be weird for me to get drunk with you just sitting there, being sober. Plus, you shouldn’t have to put up with my drunken idiocy without being at least a little bit drunk yourself. Just looking out for you here.” Then, after a second, she added, “And stop calling me Princess. Why do you call me that?”

Bellamy made an “I dunno” sound with his mouth full of liquid death. “I think I heard someone else say it, and it just fit you to a fucking T. It's not an insult...technically. Nice crown, by the way.” He nodded at her braid with a smug smile. 

She rolled her eyes, finished off her drink, and set her glass down before reaching up to undo her hair. Clarke unwrapped the braid (which she now realized was almost comically crown-like) and unwove it, fluffing her fingers down its length. “There,” she stuck her tongue out. “Now stop it. I honestly wouldn’t mind so much, but it was Finn that started calling me that, the day of our orientation, before any of the...” she made a vague gesture in the air and made a face. “Between all that and you rebranding it as this sarcastic pet name, I can’t say I’m a fan.”

Curious and too buzzed to hesitate, Bellamy asked, “Whatever happened with Finn? I know it was this big thing, and Raven said he cheated on both of you, but I never really asked O for details.” He had never really wondered about it before, but after what the guys had said the night before about Clarke not having dated anyone in two years, his interest was a little piqued. Clarke was a strong person, and for something to have affected her that intensely, it had to have been bad.

“Uh,” she took a deep breath,”basically we started dating freshman year, but he was still with Raven, his high school sweetheart. She transferred here our sophomore year, and it all fell apart. He said all this stuff about not being sure if they were still together or not, but it was bullshit. Like, why would you not bother to be sure? Anyway, we both dumped him and got to be best friends.”

“And he still...?”

“Awkwardly tries to ‘win me back’, like I’m some winnable thing? Yeah.” She grimaced. “Sorry, I just don’t like thinking about it. Raven and O were harassing me last night about not dating since then, and I just...I don’t know. I hate it.” She frowned and looked down to the other end of the couch where Bellamy was leaned against the arm, his legs still pinned under hers, looking pissed off. Pissed off on her behalf, she realized. It was

unexpectedly attractive.

And just like that, it was ten am again, and she was flushed and furious and kind of hot for this confusing, contradictory asshole. How dare he act like a complete dick for four years, and then, when she found herself in a strange, vulnerable place, be so openly nice? Clarke was drunk and she suddenly felt somehow cheated, and she needed to get off this couch before she did something she would regret. So she swung her legs off his, grabbed the bottle of liquid death, and stood, not entirely sure of where she was going.

Bellamy watched her face, saw her expression shift from frustration with Finn to something completely different. Anger, maybe? At him? He had seen it often enough to recognize it, but this time was different. Clarke didn’t just look mad. She looked sort of...wrecked. Like something was very, very wrong, but he was at a complete loss as to what it might be. He reached out, though he wasn’t entirely sure why or what he was planning to do. But it didn’t matter, because the second she saw his hand move, she shoved it away with a ferocity that, even after four years of constant conflict, managed to surprise him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Clarke shook her head. “Fuck off,” she ground out from between her teeth. She didn’t stay to see the shock on his face, instead choosing to stomp into the kitchen and sling the liquor bottle back into the fridge. She had had more than enough. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Bellamy demanded, hot on her heels. “We’ve been having our first consistently friendly interaction in four years, and now you’re snapping at me out of nowhere? Real cool, Princess.”

“My problem,” she replied hotly, poking a finger into his chest, “is you.”

He slapped her hand away and stepped closer, glaring down at her in a way that would’ve intimidated almost anyone else. But never her. It was one of the things he had always grudgingly liked about her. “Are you kidding me? The one time we get along, all of a sudden you’ve got a problem with me? Big surprise.”

“That’s exactly it! Four years of animosity and now you want to get drunk with me and talk about one of the shittiest experiences of my life like we're so close now? What is with you?” A week’s worth of “I’ll think about it later’s” were unfolding in her head, and she couldn’t stop them. Things had been shifting between the two of them, in tiny ways and now in huge ones. She had refused to devote any thought to it, and now it was all she could think about. But was all of this just because of what Raven had said-- her long dry spell coupled with unexpected kindness from a long-standing antagonist? Or was she actually feeling...something? Either way, she was fighting it tooth and fucking nail. But she was starting to wonder if she should be fighting it at all.

Bellamy shook his head, lip curling in distaste. “Seriously? Oh, God forbid we do anything but fight, otherwise--” He turned to walk away, and all Clarke’s desperately angry brain could think was, “There’s only one way to find out.” So she hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and yanked, pulling him back to her by his center of gravity. That shut him up.

Staring up at him resolutely, she narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, taking a single second to think. His forehead creased even as his pupils bloomed wide, and he said her name, once. 

“Clarke.”

It could’ve been a question, or a warning, or a plea; mostly it seemed to say, “Think before you do whatever you’re about to do.” He didn’t move. 

But she had thought. So when she breached the final distance between them, crushing her lips onto his and pinning him against the counter with her hips, it was with complete confidence that this was going to tell her everything she needed to know. 

Bellamy sucked in a breath through his nose and held perfectly still for a second, waiting to see if she would rip herself away, disgusted with herself. Clarke couldn’t decide if she was surprised or not when, a beat later, he plunged a hand into her hair and kissed her back. It wasn’t perfect at first. He ran his hand over a ticklish spot on her side, and she nipped his lip a little harder than she meant to. But she couldn’t really bring herself to be surprised when, after they were done laughing at themselves, they moved together flawlessly. 

 

If she had been drunk and kissing Finn, he would’ve asked if she was okay, if she was sure, before taking her shirt off. Bellamy just pulled away for a second, raised a solemn eyebrow at her, and waited for her nod. She liked his way better.

 

Clarke decided sometime between one and three am that she liked his everything better.

 

Octavia Blake  
9:37 am:  
Has anyone seen Clarke? She’s not here, and I don’t think she came home last night at all.

Monty Green  
9:38 am:  
I just drove past the coffee place earlier, and I thought I saw her car still parked out back.

Octavia Blake  
9:40 am:  
Shit shit shit. Do you think I should call the cops??

Nathan Miller  
9:43 am:  
Doesn’t Clarke have a pair of gray Chucks with stuff drawn all over the toes?

Octavia Blake  
9:45 am:  
Yeah, why?

Octavia Blake  
9:50 am:  
OH MY GOD MILLER, YOU BETTER NOT BE KIDDING.

Nathan Miller  
9:52 am:  
I am not kidding.

Monty Green  
9:56 am:  
Please say you’re kidding. You can be lying, I don’t even care, I just need Jasper to stop making the noise that is coming out of his room. It’s like...several kazoos all being blown at once, 

Jasper Jordan  
9:57 am:  
SHUT UP MONTY ITS LIKE A NATIONAL HOLIDAY RIGHT NOW. SOMEONE HOLD ME

Raven Reyes  
10:00 am:  
Well, well, well. Would you look at that? Before graduation, huh? Hey, Lincoln...

Lincoln  
10:04 am:  
You’ll get your money tomorrow. 

Octavia Blake  
10:07 am:  
I... I love every single thing that’s happening right now. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA HO HO! IT HAPPENED. IT FINALLY HAPPENED. THERE ARE REAL TEARS.  
> Yeah, I get feels from my own story, so what? 
> 
> In our next chapter, we see the aftermath of The Big Bang. Is it a galactic cataclysm, or it is the birth of something amazing? More importantly, will I keep up this extended science metaphor? WILL IT BE WEIRD? And since they don't know that the gang knows, are Clarke and Bellamy going to make a big announcement? Or will they have to disappoint them with the news that...this was just a one-off?
> 
> As always, thank you so, so, so much for your feedback. I don't always reply to comments, but I DO show them to people really excitedly and also cherish them (and you) in my heart. I tried to answer all of the questions I got after the last chapter in this one. I didn't get around to addressing Bellamy's major, though: he's a grad student, majoring in something like History/Classics. I don't know that it's essential to the story, but hey, you asked!


	7. She Showered Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of The Big Bang... Was it a one-off? Just a drunken romp to get rid of all of that pesky UST? Or is there something else going on? And will the gang keep their cool?
> 
> (Btw, I missed a golden fucking opportunity to make a bad joke about the end of the last chapter being a "dream come true" for Clarke. Just pretend I said it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter, just because Christmas stuff is getting hectic, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging!

Clarke had officially given up on trying to make sense of how this was all happening; instead, she had begun to focus on enjoying it. At the moment, she was lying on her back with her head on Bellamy Blake's collarbone, his arm wrapped around her bare shoulders. His nose was in her hair, and he was twirling one long strand around his finger. The morning light trickling in was turning his skin a pale bronze, and he was playing with her hair, for fuck's sake... As much as she tried not to overthink it, she was officially torn between the inherent strangeness of the situation and how impossibly natural it felt. 

Bellamy must have seen some of that confusion on her face, because his hand stilled, and he spoke quietly. "You freaking out?" 

Clarke turned her face to him, careful not to pull his hand from her hair, and looked at him. Really looked. "No." Face grave, she traced a finger down the side of his jaw. "Kind of the opposite, which is weird in its own right." 

He cracked a tiny smile. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's a, um... It's a paradigm shift." He didn't come right out and say that this changed everything, but they both understood. 

She hesitated a second before saying, "It doesn't have to be, if you don't want it to. I know you and Raven slept together a couple years ago, and it didn't change anything between the two of you. Sexual compatibility doesn't mean that we actually like each other at all." 

The side-eye Bellamy shot her could have stunned a small animal. "Okay, two things, Princess. One, if you think this is anything like that in any way other than the very basics, you're a moron. Two," he grinned wickedly, voice somehow getting even lower, "can you honestly say you don't like me a little?" 

Clarke made a moue, considering. At last she stared up at the ceiling and said, "It's a recent development. I'm adjusting to the idea. Might've freaked out about it a little last night." 

He turned his head and breathed a laugh into her hair. "Yeah, yeah, I like you too." 

All at once, she was thankful for the sheet that covered the flush spreading across her chest. If she was a little pleased, he didn't need to know about it. Eyes tracking the blades of the ceiling fan, she was struck with the ugly thought that maybe she was just happy to have broken her dry spell, regardless of who it was with, and now all the dopamine flooding her head was making her feel things that weren't real. 

She rolled onto her side so that their noses were almost touching and studied his face. His expression gave nothing away, even as he pulled her closer and kissed her. Clarke spared a thought for morning breath but ultimately decided that she didn't give a damn. Bellamy's hand that wasn't buried in her hair was sliding up to palm her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The kiss was soft and unhurried, and it felt something like breathing. As she pushed forward to kiss him back, he slid the arm under her down to her waist and rolled her on top of him. She couldn't stop herself from tangling her hand in his dark curls, and she was past the point of _wanting_ to stop. 

It was intense and wonderful and completely different from the night before. That had been furious and rough with four years of pent-up frustration and maybe a little bit of excitement. Even though this lacked the sense of urgency of the night before, Clarke could feel Bellamy’s heart hammering under her. She grinned into his mouth, muffling his murmured, “Shut up,” and she didn’t worry about dopamine anymore. 

 

After a shower that would have been much quicker if she had been alone, Clarke wound her hair into a bun, put her clothes back on, and went out into the living room. Bellamy was already in the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water and his car keys. Padding across the cold floor, she wriggled her feet into her untied shoes and froze.

“Bellamy,” she began slowly, “were my shoes out here all night?”

“Probably,” he replied without turning around. “Why?”

“What if Miller saw them?”

Now he turned. His expression was unreadable, but his chin was canted at that defiant angle she’d seen too often. “Are you worried that he knows? That he told people?”

Carefully, she said, “No. Not worried, per se. But we haven’t talked about whether we want to tell people or not. Or what we would even tell them.” At his unconvinced look, she sighed and added, “Think about it, Bellamy. Do you tell our friends every time you sleep with someone?” 

Finally, he relented. “No. But we _should_ talk about it.” Tossing her one of the bottles of water, he jerked his head toward the door. Apparently they were taking this conversation on the road.

Neither of them spoke until they were halfway to the girls' apartment; Bellamy broke the silence with a groan. “Just...tell me what you want.”

In spite of his serious tone, Clarke barked out a laugh. “You make it sound like I’m a terrorist making demands! Should I be insulted?”

That got a smile out of him. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess what I’m saying is, I told you this was nothing like the Raven thing, and it’s not. I don’t want it to be, anyway. Do you?”

It took about two seconds of thinking for her to shake her head and say, “No, I don’t think I do. But sex doesn’t necessarily guarantee a healthy relationship.”

Bellamy snorted, turning into the complex parking lot. “Nothing’s guaranteed, Princess. You know that. You’re just dodging the question. If you don’t want to do--” 

“I do,” she cut him off. “Of course I do. I just don’t want to be...disappointed again. I don’t want that for either of us.”

The tension drained from his face. “Yeah. I get that. So, nothing official for now. No pressure. Just, whatever the hell we want. Okay?”

It was weird seeing Bellamy Blake so off-kilter. Hesitant, almost. Clarke smiled broadly, shamelessly enjoying his discomfort as she said, “Okay.” 

 

Octavia Blake  
2:17 pm:  
Ohhh my God I’m actually dying.

Jasper Jordan  
2:18 pm:  
tell me right now

Octavia Blake  
2:23 pm:  
I was keeping an eye out for Clarke to come back when I saw Bell’s car pull into the lot. They just sat in his car for a little while, just talking, all smiley and stupid. Clarke was biting her lip, and Bell kept looking down like there was something soooo interesting in his lap. Yeah right. 

Jasper Jordan  
2:24 pm:  
holy god that is the cutest thing ive ever heard

Monty Green  
2:26 pm:  
Okay, yeah, that is almost too adorable. 

Octavia Blake  
2:29 pm:  
It gets better. After they were done talking, Clarke got out and Bell met her around the front of the car. It looked like he was going to kiss her goodbye (which, asl;dkfj) and it pretty much devolved into them making out against the hood of his car. At this point, it seemed like a good idea to stop looking... For my own mental health. Aaaand about five minutes ago, she came in like nothing had happened. Literally said nothing about it, didn’t explain where she’d been, anything. Just made some lunch and started watching tv. Should I ask her about it or??

Monty Green  
2:31 pm:  
I really wish you would’ve broken this (admittedly awesome) news more a little more gently. I think Jasper is actively crying. I’m not going in his room to find out.

Lincoln  
2:33 pm:  
So, is the general consensus that they seem to be in some kind of relationship now? Even if it’s just an unofficial one?

Nathan Miller  
2:38 pm:  
Uh, I’d say so. She showered here, and it sounded like they actually had a conversation. They didn’t leave until like 20 mins. ago, and they left together. I’ve lived with Bellamy for two years, and I can go ahead and tell you that’s not his hookup M.O. Girls are out by 8, 9 at the latest, they never talk, and they call their own cabs. This is A Thing. 

Lincoln  
2:42 pm:  
Hey, Raven...

Raven Reyes  
2:48 pm:  
A. Shut up. We were both right, and you get to keep your money.  
B. It sounds like she isn’t ready to tell anyone, and you guys have to be cool about that. Don’t do any of your excited, squealing bullshit. I’m right there with you, but stuff needs to happen at its own pace. A little hypocritical, given that O and I encouraged the whole thing, but still,

Octavia Blake  
2:50 pm:  
Damn, Reyes. You sound like Clarke. Are you the vice-mom? But you’re totally right, and I won’t say anything.

Jasper Jordan  
2:53 pm:  
and i will contain myself

Monty Green  
2:54 pm:  
...

Jasper Jordan  
2:55 pm:  
*i will contain myself in their presence. feels city is fair game. 

Monty Green  
2:58 pm:  
Hey Miller, any chance I can move in with you guys? Jw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we'll see if the gang can actually keep their mouths shut. We'll also see what the hell an unofficial relationship between people like Bellamy and Clarke looks like. They're both extremely decisive, and something so nebulous is bound to be pretty weird for them, right? We also have to ask ourselves: how is this going to affect the prank that started this whole thing? If they're all trying to keep their knowledge of Bellamy and Clarke on the DL...nominating them for Cutest Couple suddenly seems like a bad idea, right? But it's already been done! 
> 
> Just as a heads-up, updates will probably be once every two days now, and no promises for Christmas/Christmas Eve. Hope everyone is having a nice holiday! And, as always, loving all the positive feedback!


	8. Voting Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voting Day is here! Can Bellamy and Clarke make it through the day without noticing? Can everyone else keep mum about it? We shall see... We'll also see how our fearless leaders deal with their weird, unresolved non-relationship. Because that's gotta be odd, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry I'm such a fucking trashcan. The holidays got hectic, and I wanted to be able to devote my full attention to these last two or three chapters. So here it is! 
> 
> Side note: prepare for more Latin geekery. They say "write what you know"... Latin and working in a coffee shop is what I know.

Clarke Griffin was usually prepared for most things-- she was kind of a planner like that-- but she had completely failed to prepare for Dr. Baker’s class. Oh, she had done her homework alright, complete with macrons, thank you very much. But she hadn’t even begun to consider what it would be like to try and focus in a class with Bellamy Blake sitting in the very back of the room grading quizzes. She realized too late, as she was pretty sure she felt his stare burning into the back of her neck, that she had also forgotten about the love bite at the joint of her shoulder that was almost certainly visible under her ponytail. Shit shit shit. 

Clarke Griffin was also something of a worrier. Nothing over the top; she just liked things to be figured out. She liked plans to be definite, and she liked to know where she stood with people. Which is why she found herself drawing up a pro-con list in the middle of class about pursuing An Actual Relationship with Her Former Nemesis.

In the pro column:  
-relationship dramatically improved  
-unexpectedly considerate at times  
-really smart. like really  
-polar opposite of Finn Collins  
-already integrated into social circle  
-Octavia would probably be excited  
-work would be more fun if shifts ever get switched again  
-the sex  
-the sex should be here twice  
-weird gut feeling that this could be a great thing

In the con column:  
-inevitable awkwardness when we do eventually break up, provided we’re still around one another after  
-seems the type to avoid commitment (though he seemed in favor of it?)  
-total ass sometimes  
-potentially unethical (TA/student? Is that allowed?)  
-weird gut feeling that this could be a terrible thing

She tried to come up with more entries for the con column, but she just...couldn’t. Fortunately, she was distracted from her brainstorm by a message notification from Facebook.

Bellamy Blake  
9:15 am  
You’re not paying attention.

Clarke Griffin  
9:15 am  
Yes, I am. 

Bellamy Blake  
9:15 am:  
Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re making a list.

Clarke Griffin  
9:16 am:  
Maybe it’s a declension chart.

Bellamy Blake  
9:16 am:  
This is an advanced class. You already know the declensions.

Clarke Griffin  
9:17 am:  
Maybe it’s the subjunctive.

Bellamy Blake  
9:17 am:  
I could buy that. But it's not. You should be listening.

Clarke Griffin  
9:17 am:  
...he’s just reciting stuff again. 

Bellamy Blake  
9:18 am:  
Fair enough. He says its for meter, but really he just likes to hear himself talk. Baker loves his rolling r’s. 

Clarke Griffin  
9:18 am:  
And we’ve been doing dactylic hexameter for a week. If he says, “ARma virUMque caNO” one more time, I’m walking out.

Bellamy Blake  
9:19 am:  
Oh please. You wouldn't. 

Clarke Griffin  
9:19 am:  
Is that a challenge? 

Bellamy Blake  
9:20 am:  
Could be. But you'd be better off staying and getting coffee with me after. 

Clarke Griffin  
9:20 am:  
Maybe I have another class after this one.

Bellamy Blake  
9:21 am:  
Then consider the invitation rescinded. 

Clarke Griffin  
9:26 am:  
See you after. 

 

After Dr. Baker finished his lesson (read: monologue), Clarke stuffed her laptop into her bag and made for the door. Bellamy was waiting just on the other side, fiddling with his phone and not looking like he was waiting for someone at all. Clever. 

"Hey, slacker," he greeted her without looking up. Pocketing his phone, he grinned up at her; it made her want to slap his face, but maybe in a good way? 

"Hey, fuck you." There was more affection behind it than anything else, and Clarke decided that she liked being able to do that. 

"Fuck you," he countered. She was about to make a comment along the lines of, "Oh, how original," but then he winked at her so lasciviously that her mouth dropped into a tiny o. 

She didn't let her shock show for long, as her mouth curved into a wicked smirk. "Oh please. Don't kid yourself about who was fucking whom." 

Bellamy's eyebrows shot up, but he just shrugged, still openly grinning. "You're right. I guess you must’ve wanted me pretty bad." 

"Oh, I wanted you? That's not the impression I got when your head was--"

"Alright, alright, " he held up his hands. His eyes rolled skyward as he smiled wonderingly."Is this something normal couples fight about?" 

The word seemed to have just slipped out, and Clarke watched out of the corner of her eye as he opened his mouth, then closed it, and swallowed hard. Before he could say something that would make everything awkward, she took a deep breath, cocked her head at him, and asked, "Would you classify us as normal?" 

His smile that followed was more than a little relieved. 

 

Monty Green  
10:32 am:  
Guys, I just realized something. I think we may have made a huge mistake. 

Octavia Blake  
10:33 am:  
????? 

Monty Green  
10:34 am:  
Okay, so, you know how we said we aren't going to make a big deal out of Clarke and Bellamy, so we don't spook them? 

Monty Green  
10:34 am:  
Well, doesn't the whole Cutest Couple thing seem like...a really, really bad idea now? 

Octavia Blake  
10:35 am:  
oh my fucking god

Jasper Jordan  
10:36 am:  
NO. OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO STOP IT. 

Lincoln  
10:37 am:  
It's too late. They opened up the polls this morning. They might have already heard. 

Raven Reyes  
10:39 am:  
They shouldn't have. Between Miller and me, people know not to say anything. This is not a big school. 

Nathan Miller  
10:41 am:  
She's right. Everyone we've talked to knows there's a gag order, and the student body is small enough that word should've spread. 

Raven Reyes  
10:43 am:  
Wait, shit. Has anyone talked to Finn recently? 

 

Coffee had turned into lunch, as Clarke and Bellamy realized that neither of them had another class until later. So, an hour after class had ended, instead of going their separate ways, they found themselves tucked into a booth at Student Union cafe. Bellamy was grading the last of his quizzes, grumbling about Baker's choice of translation material. 

"It’s so fucking boring! My kingdom for some Catullus." 

Clarke wrinkled her nose without looking up from her sketchbook. "No thanks. I'd take Martial over Little Sparrow any day." 

Bellamy choked know his coffee. "Jesus. It's always the quiet ones that like Martial." 

Glancing up, her mouth quirked mischievously. "You can't tell me you wouldn't love hearing Baker conjugate _futuo, futuere_ in that droning voice of his." 

They were still chuckling when a shadow fell over their table. 

"Clarke?" Finn looked only slightly uncomfortable standing beside their table. More confused than anything. For a second, Clarke actually wasn't sure why, but then she remembered who she was sitting with. 

"Hey, " she tried to keep her tone light. "What's up?" Try as she might, she still sounded a little strained, and she could feel the hostility radiating off Bellamy. He had helped keep Finn away from her even before...everything. Clarke could only imagine how he felt about him now. 

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" His eyes flicked to Bellamy for a moment, but he didn't say anything else. 

Clarke considered it. The whole "whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of so-and-so" thing was played, but she still didn't want to talk to him alone. So instead, she nodded at the empty table next to theirs and said, "Pull up a chair." It was kind of a power play, and from the way Bellamy leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, he understood. It seemed they were putting up a united front. Good. 

Finn dragged a chair over from the table and sat awkwardly with his hands in his lap. “It’s probably better that I talk to you both at once, to spare you a really weird conversation.” 

“What a saint...” Clarke thought.

“Anyway,” he went on,” Clarke, I meant to tell you sooner, but they cut me out of the plan, and I wasn’t totally sure it was happening until the voting opened up today.”

“Voting for what?” Bellamy asked, now slightly more curious than hostile. 

Finn slid his phone onto the table between them. Clarke picked it up and angled it so that she and Bellamy could both see. His browser was open to the school website, which bore the headline “University Superlative Poll”. Scrolling down, Clarke saw her name under the Most Likely to Succeed column. Bellamy gave her foot a little tap under the table, but since she knew this wasn’t what Finn was so worked up about, she kept scrolling. And scrolling and scrolling until--

Cutest Couple:  
Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake : 56%

She didn’t even bother reading the other names as her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted to Bellamy, and she saw that his mouth was pressed into a hard line. 

Leveling a stare at Finn, he asked, “You said ‘plan’. Elaborate. Now.” His voice was terse, and Clarke was unexpectedly unsure how she felt about that. 

Their unwelcome companion inhaled deeply. “Basically, Octavia got it in her head that it would be funny to nominate you guys. Just to make you mad, see what happened. It was a stupid prank, but she got everyone else involved, and they got everyone in their classes to vote for you, and...I said it would make Clarke uncomfortable, that it was a bad idea, so Octavia deleted me from the group message. Like I said, I wasn’t sure until now that they actually went through with it. I’m,” he hesitated, “really sorry I didn’t say something sooner anyway.”

She wasn’t sure, but Clarke thought she felt her lingering resentment of Finn lessen just a little as she handed his phone back to him. “Well, you told us now. So, thank you. Even if you had said something before, there was nothing anyone could do about it.”

Bellamy said nothing.

Finn nodded and looked like he was thinking about saying something else. But all he said was, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll see you guys around.” He swivelled his chair back to its original spot and walked away.

Bellamy still hadn’t said anything. Clarke ventured a look at him, only to find that he was staring at her. His eyebrows were knitted together, and she could’ve sworn he was scrutinizing her. 

Then, all at once, Clarke knew exactly what was happening. He was gauging her reaction. Studying her, lips still pursed and shoulders set, like he was braced for her to run. Because hadn’t she been the one to shy away from any kind of relationship or label just yesterday? It had caught her off her guard that he had been interested in pursuing something more than sex, and she had pulled back. The whole Cutest Couple idea just raised a lot of tension that she had been trying her best to avoid.

Deciding that she didn’t give a damn if she sounded like a needy girlfriend, she murmured, “What are you thinking?”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, which made his scowl look a little softer and more vulnerable. (It was strange and unnatural.) “Honestly? I’m just waiting to see if you bail. You know how I feel. You’re the one that didn’t want this. Which is fine. But if anything is gonna change your mind and make this thing go from something to nothing...this is it.” 

God, that made her stomach wring itself inside out. He was right about what she had said, but at the same time, the ambiguity was fucking _killing_ her. She hated it. Would it be worth it to just go for it and end the hanging question once and for all? They’d been doing this no-labels thing for all of 24 hours, and it already sucked. They were both too decisive, and she knew it had to feel wrong to him too.  
“Your turn, Princess. Share with the class.”

Taking a deep breath, she felt her eyes crinkle up at the corners. “I’m not bailing. And to be totally honest, this no labels thing is bullshit, and I can’t do it.” 

He raised his eyebrows, as if to say, “Go on.”

Clarke gathered up every last ounce of nerve she had as she said, “Let’s do it. Really do it. If it goes south, so what? I want to.” She didn’t quite have the guts to say, “I want you.” Not yet. But she would, probably soon, and in the meantime, she hoped he heard it anyway. 

Maybe he did. Bellamy’s grin was crooked and pointed directly at the table in front of him, but Clarke got a solid glimpse and couldn’t help but grin herself. He didn’t say anything for a second, just knocked his foot against hers again. It was disgustingly and uncharacteristically cute. She loved it. Finally, he said looked up, with a slightly straighter face, and said, “Good.” 

Clarke just turned her head, still unable to drop her stupid smile even as she pressed her lips together, and nodded. After a second, she eyed him, a devilish glint in her eye. “Speaking of my good ideas, I think I have one about how to get back at our friends.” 

 

Clarke Griffin  
1:02 pm:  
Would you guys mind moving movie night from Wednesday to tomorrow? I have a study group that can’t be rescheduled...

Jasper Jordan  
1:04 pm:  
That works for Monty and me. 

Octavia Blake  
1:07 pm:  
Me too, and Lincoln, I think.

Raven Reyes  
1:10 pm:  
Yeah, I’m good with it. I’m supposed to hang out with my comm systems TA-- Wick? But I’ll just bring him along. He’s pretty laid-back.

Finn Collins  
1:14 pm:  
I can be there, but are you sure? We could always do it Thursday.

Clarke Griffin  
1:15 pm:  
Yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t I be?

Nathan Miller  
1:17 pm:  
Works for me.

Bellamy Blake  
1:22 pm:  
Be there with bells on.

 

 

Jasper Jordan  
1:22 pm:  
do you guys realize what this MEANS

Jasper Jordan  
1:22 pm:  
we’re going to be there when the poll results come out. when they win. you guys.

Jasper Jordan  
1:23 pm:  
i take it back. i cannot contain myself. i will actually have a meltdown in their presence.

Nathan Miller  
1:25 pm:  
Yeah, I feel like this is going to be great. Not the meltdown, but their reaction. It’s gonna be fucking nuclear. Good thing we’ll already have popcorn.

Lincoln  
1:27 pm:  
There is no chance I’m missing this.

Raven Reyes  
1:29 pm:  
Can someone film? Just for posterity.

Octavia Blake  
1:32 pm:  
YES. Mark my words, we’ll be showing that video at their wedding.

Raven Reyes  
1:37 pm:  
Wanna put money on that?

Monty Green  
1:42 pm:  
...I’ll get my earplugs. And my good camera. This is gonna be HD or nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! BELLARKE LIVES! AT LAAAASST. Finn is kind of a schmuck for blabbing, but I feel bad for the whole mid-season finale thing, so I tried not to make him too bad. In the next, ultimate or penultimate (depending on how I feel), chapter, we'll be seeing exactly what happens when the newly-official couple decides to get a little revenge. Together, they're basically unstoppable, but you never know. 
> 
> And again, trashcan, but I'm back on my game now! Expect another update within a much more reasonable amount of time! I love you all forever, especially if you've left kudos or commented or bookmarked this or followed me on tumblr or just thought positive thoughts about this story. Really, I do.


	9. The Grand Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has finally arrived-- the big superlative reveal! Clarke and Bellamy have a plan of their own, to get revenge on their scheming friends, but will it work? Our dynamic duo can do just about anything, but they might just be outfoxed...

Bellamy Blake  
2:32 pm  
You know tonight is going to be a shitshow, right? 

Clarke Griffin  
2:35 pm  
Oh yeah. That’s what we’re going for. 

Bellamy Blake  
2:39 pm:  
I know. I’m just saying, it’s gonna be all chaotic and obnoxious. You sure it’ll be worth it?

Clarke Griffin  
2:32 pm  
Absolutely. They pranked us, and we owe them. And since we can’t exactly get REVENGE revenge on all of our friends at once, it’s our duty to at least mess with them. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet! It’s too late to deviate from the plan now. 

Bellamy Blake  
2:35 pm  
Nah. Maybe I’d feel better after one of your pep talks...

Clarke Griffin  
2:37 pm  
Oh please. You’re the motivational speaker of the group. I just break out the mom voice when you’re about to convince everyone to do something stupid. Which is...every time.

Bellamy Blake  
2:40 pm  
God, Princess. Here I was trying to flirt, and you ruined it. 

Clarke Griffin  
2:42 pm  
Oh. Yeah, in hindsight, that seems much more obvious. But hey, I can’t be nice to you yet, remember? I’ll be nice to you later.

Bellamy Blake  
2:44 pm  
Yeah you will. Wait, is that flirting or just confirming the plan? 

Clarke Griffin  
2:47 pm  
See you tonight ;)

Bellamy Blake  
2:50 pm  
That’s more like it.

 

 

Movie night didn’t technically begin until 7, but Clarke wasn’t surprised when the girls’ apartment filled up at 5:30. Once again, she had claimed the center spot on the couch, nestled between Jasper and Bellamy. Every once in a while, Bellamy would look at her out of the corner of his eye, and she had to fight back a grin even as she shifted away from him, looking irritated and uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Jasper was practically vibrating in his seat. 

On Jasper’s other side, Monty was juggling a lapful of gadgets. Balanced on one knee was his Macbook, which he would be using to stream their pirated movie to the TV. Taking up the rest of his lap was a massive camera that made Clarke a little nervous. She should’ve known that he would want to film the grand finale of their little joke; all she could do at this point was hope that she and Bellamy would give them enough of a show.

“Say ‘hi’, everybody!” Monty directed as he swept the camera around the room.

Everyone dutifully shouted a chorus of hi’s, Jasper being the loudest as he leered into the lens. Even the newcomer, Wick, joined in, seeming completely at home in their little clique already.

“Why are you recording?” Bellamy asked from the far end of the couch, sounding carefully neutral. 

Monty shrugged. “No reason. Just felt like digging out the old camera and recording some sweet college memories. For most of us, this is our last year all at school together.” 

A collective groan rose up from the assembled company, and more than one person flung popcorn at Monty’s head. 

“I’m serious!” he shouted from behind the camera. “We’re graduating and going off to work or grad school or medical school. Who knows if we’ll all--” 

He was cut off by several voices at once, all saying something along the lines of, “Dude, _shut up._ "

When six o’clock rolled around-- after what had seemed like hours-- Octavia piped up in an unconvincingly surprised voice. “You guys, I completely forgot! Aren’t the results for yearbook superlatives coming out tonight?”

“Yeah, they are,” Miller nodded, equally unconvincing in his innocence. “Actually, I think they came out at six, and it’s now,” he checked his phone, “six-oh-five.”

Monty was already typing away on his laptop. “Pulling it up now. Clarke, didn’t you get nominated for something?” 

She knew he meant the Most Likely to Succeed thing, just in case someone had mentioned it to her, but she played dumb. “I have no idea. I didn’t even remember to check.” She saw Finn shoot her a troubled look from across the room, but her expression didn't give anything away.

After a minute, the tv flickered as it mirrored Monty’s screen, showing the drop.ship.edu homepage. It took him all of three seconds to navigate to the superlative results, and Clarke inhaled deeply. She could feel Bellamy tensing up beside her, assuming a defensive posture that would come into play soon enough.

“Alrighty, let’s see what we’ve got,” Monty proclaimed. Slowly, he scrolled down the page. Jasper had been nominated for Class Clown and won by a mile. Clarke gave him a congratulatory smack on the shoulder as he crowed, “Hell yeah!” Down down down, no one else had been nominated for anything. Clarke saw her name under Most Likely to Succeed, but she’d been beaten out by someone she was pretty sure was a grad student by a slim margin. Everyone dutifully proclaimed it to be bullshit. Finally, they came to the end of the page-- of course that’s where Cutest Couple would be. 

**Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake: 67% [Winners]**

The living room echoed with shouts of patently false surprise, _oh my god_ ’s and _what?!’_ s rising from the assembled crowd. (Only Finn and the confused but curious-looking Wick kept quiet.) 

Taking a quick breath, Clarke whipped her head to face Bellamy, her face a mask of pure outrage. “You asshole! You just couldn’t keep it to yourself, could you?” she demanded, shooting out of her seat. 

Bellamy followed her up, crossing his arms and clenching his jaw. “What the hell are you talking about? You said to keep my mouth shut, and I did. It’s obvious you’re embarrassed by this, and I’d hate to cramp your style.” The end of his last sentence was so acidic it should have burned right through his tongue 

“Excuse me?” She took two tiny steps until she was right up in his face. “If anyone has qualms about our relationship, it’s you, Mr. One-Night Stand.” Clarke didn’t dare take her eyes of Bellamy’s, but she could see their friends in her peripheral vision. They looked just as shocked as she had hoped, but also...horrified. Like, open-mouthed, dinner-plate-eyes horrified. She didn’t have time to wonder why-- the finale was coming.

Bellamy practically growled as he leaned down the few inches between their faces. “I’ve made it perfectly clear how I feel about you. You’re the one holding back.” 

Clarke’s mouth dropped open and her eyebrows dove into a furious V. “I am not holding back!” 

“Oh really?” he asked with an icy smirk, as if he were about to play his trump card. “Prove it.” 

Raising one defiant brow, Clarke didn’t hesitate to snatch a handful of Bellamy’s shirt, yank him the single step that separated them, and drive her mouth into his with all the intensity of a punch. Her eyes firmly shut, she felt his arm lash around her waist. They kept it up for long enough to make the even the most casual observer uncomfortable (and hopefully completely freak out their friends). After their inappropriately long and distinctly unchaste interlude, they pulled apart, breathing heavily. Clarke could see the genuine heat in Bellamy's eyes and feel it in her own, and she knew that they were selling it. After just looking at each other for a long moment, they turned to face the rest of the room, explanations on their bruised lips.

They never got the chance to enact the final stage of the plan-- telling everyone the truth-- as they were met with clamoring applause, triumphant shouts, and a wolf-whistle or two. Jasper sprung up from the couch behind them and enveloped them both in a huge hug. His hands might have been trembling as he choked out, “Oh my God. _You guys!_ ” 

All Clarke and Bellamy could do was stare at each other, exchanging non-verbal _what the fuck_ ’s. This was definitely not the intended reaction, and it hardly qualified as punishing their friends if everyone was so damn cheerful about it. They both looked over to where Monty sat as they heard him proclaim, “Finally!” into the lens of his camera. 

Bellamy was the first to speak, rumbling out an undeniably intimidating, “Anyone wanna tell use what the fuck is going on here?” 

Everyone promptly shut up, except Octavia, who cleared her throat officiously. “You’d better settle in, kids. It’s a long story.”

 

 

Octavia Blake added Clarke Griffin to the conversation.  
Octavia Blake added Bellamy Blake to the conversation.

Octavia Blake  
6:45 pm  
Since you know the whole story now, I guess it’s only fair that you see how it all came together. You’re angry now, but really, you should be thanking us. 

Bellamy Blake  
6:47 pm  
O, you guys had literally nothing to do with Clarke and me. 

Clarke Griffin  
6:50 pm  
Well...that’s not entirely true. Raven may have gotten me thinking about how I’d been celibate for basically forever.

Clarke Griffin  
6:50 pm  
Single. Oh my God, I meant single.

Octavia Blake  
6:52 pm  
I’m going to pretend you’re telling the truth, because that’s what I need to sleep at night. Plus, it's not our fault your little plan to get back at us failed.

Bellamy Blake  
6:55 pm  
I wouldn't say it failed. You all looked pretty shocked while it was happening.

Raven Reyes  
6:57 pm  
That's only because we were all scared that we'd accidentally started the fight that would break you guys up.

Clarke Griffin  
7:15 pm  
Okay, I just got done reading all of these old texts, and can I just say that this whole thing was completely fucked up? Like, really, really fucked up. (Although, O, I appreciate you thinking about calling the cops when I didn’t come home. That was sweet. And Raven, thank you for making everybody be calm. Ish.) 

Bellamy Blake  
7:17 pm  
Yeah, what she said. Also, Jasper...what is wrong with you, man? How are you this invested in our relationship? Especially given that it didn’t actually exist until yesterday.

Jasper Jordan  
7:20 pm  
i just have a lot of feelings bellamy. it’s not my fault you’re perfect for each other and i was the first one to notice. I’M NOT MADE OF STONE OKAY

Raven Reyes  
7:23 pm  
You were so not the first one to notice. Not by a long shot. 

Jasper Jordan  
7:25 pm  
oh really? when did you jump on the bellarke train? bc i’m the fucking conductor.

Clarke Griffin  
7:27 pm  
1\. Never ever say “Bellarke” again. Ever. That is not a thing, and it will never be a thing.  
2\. We are not doing this. I am so uncomfortable right now.

Nathan Miller  
7:30 pm  
Of course you’re uncomfortable, you and Bellamy and basically sharing the same two square feet of space. Funny, I never would’ve pegged either of you as the cuddly type.

Bellamy Blake  
7:33 pm  
Shut up, Miller. I’m pretty sure leaning against someone does not count as cuddling.

Monty Green  
7:37 pm  
I am literally watching you smell Clarke’s hair, and I’m pretty sure you’re holding hands under that blanket. 

Clarke Griffin  
7:40 pm  
Shut up, Monty. And can you please control your roommate?

Monty Green  
7:43 pm  
Jasper, please stop making those happy sounds. You sound like a tea kettle. Clarke is going to beat you up, and really, it’s just weird and off-putting. 

Jasper Jordan  
7:45 pm  
you are all heartless. i’m not allowed to be happy?

Bellamy Blake  
7:47 pm  
Not creepy happy, no. 

Lincoln  
7:50 pm  
Now that that’s settled, can we get back to watching this movie? I love you guys, and I’m happy for you and all, but we’re all sitting in the same room, silently texting each other. This is too much. Also, Finn and Raven’s date look really left out.

Jasper Jordan  
7:52 pm  
fucking buzzkill

Jasper Jordan  
7:52 pm  
please don’t hurt me

 

 

Okay, so maybe their plan had gone to hell in a handbasket, but Clarke decided that she didn’t really care. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was currently curled into Bellamy’s side, her friends were all happy, and all felt right with the world. Granted, her friends had just spent the last few minutes mocking her and Bellamy’s affectionate proximity (after they had all apparently rooted for them to hook up, the hypocrites), and her friends were manipulate masterminds with no concept of privacy. Whatever. She popped a handful of popcorn in her mouth, gave Bellamy’s hand a little squeeze-- oh yeah, they were definitely holding hands under that blanket-- and dropped her head onto his shoulder. Maybe not _all_ was right with the world, but... _most_. And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Yay! At first, I thought about splitting this into two chapters, one with the OTP of all OTPs putting on their little show, then the last with them reading all of their friends' old texts about them, buuuuttt they would both be super short, so what's the point? Anyway, this has been hilarious and fun to write-- it's a far cry from the short, witty little drabble that I originally intended it to be, but so what?-- and I appreciate everyone who's followed along! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
> 
> This was the first fanfic I've written in exactly eight years, and it was all un-beta'd (like, I don't even have one of those. Where do you find them?), but I've loved every bit of it. I'll definitely be writing more in the future, so keep an eye out! I have about a zillion ideas with tropes that no one has done before, and a few that have been done to death but that I still adore. (Also, I'm thinking about writing some stuff for the Throne of Glass series, so if you're into that, watch out. If you aren't, you haven't read the books, and I strongly recommend you do so.) Anyway, all that to say: I hope you guys read my other stuff, and I looooove you! 
> 
> If the spirit moves you, come follow me on tumblr at maryam0revna.tumblr.com for hella Bellarke and general bad humor. I am actually dying for people to send me prompts, SO PLEASE COME DO THAT. I WOULD LOVE IT, AND I WOULD FILL THEM. Pinky promise.


End file.
